Shadows of a Lost Mind
by Kina Kalamari
Summary: When Azzanadra took a trip to the Jaldraocht Pyramid, he didn't expect to end up as a bystander in his own head, on a mission to uncover something that's existence is entirely unconfirmed with a bunch of people he didn't like. Life can be cruel sometimes.
1. Chapter One

**A/N: So, here be the beginning of my new fic. I haven't gotten many readers in the RS fandom before, but we'll see how this goes. I quite like this fic so far, and love to hear anyone's opinions on it. =)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, or any of the places, or any of anything else. It all belongs to Jagex. Admittedly, my friends and I have formed our own opinions on many of the subjects, but that's really beside the point. It's still not mine.**

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**Chapter One**

Azzanadra hated pyramids.

Of course, that was generally common knowledge these days, considering there were very few people that didn't know about his four thousand year nap inside the Jaldraocht Pyramid. Everyone knew. Might as well just have Ali the Leaflet Dropper start handing out leaflets about it. Then the few people who actually _didn't_ know would be informed.

He didn't really know why he was here, standing in front of the stupid, four-sided lump of stone that had held him captive for so long. All it was really doing was bringing up bad memories that he'd rather just keep repressed. But here he was. Why?

Well, the truth was really rather odd. He'd come not because he felt like being depressed and angry, or because he liked looking at the dumb thing because he thought it was nice, or even because he'd fancied a stroll in the desert… No, he'd come because he'd felt a call. Or something. He didn't really know what to call it. It was there, though, lurking in the back of his mind, just out of reach, unnamable and annoying. He could almost hear the spooky, ghostly voice going, "Aaaazzanaaaaadraaa…" Shudder.

Against his better judgment, he slowly climbed the long set of stairs that led up to the entrance to the horrible place. One foot, then the other, all the while wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Was this smart? Probably not. Was this going to get him into camel-loads of trouble? Knowing his luck, most likely. Was he doing it anyway? Well, whataya know…he was.

_Moron,_ he told himself. _Stop moving. Just… stay where you are. Turn around, even._

But, no surprise, it didn't do a thing. He was still making his way, one foot after the other, up the steps. _Dumb, dumb, dumb…_

He reached the top.

_Now what?_ he wondered, and, hoping for the best, tried to turn around. No luck. His body just wouldn't listen to him.

Suddenly, knowing that he was defenseless against this… _thing_ in his mind, he felt a terrible sense of fear and entrapment come over him. He was Azzanadra, the mightiest of all the mighty Mahjarrat, the bane of so many weak, pathetic people… and he couldn't do a thing to stop himself from opening this pyramid door. This was _wrong_. This was so wrong that he couldn't even begin to describe how wrong it was.

Teeth bared, a growl rising in his throat, he tried once again to turn around.

_Move, fool! _

Nothing.

And then his hand reached out, practically of its own accord, and pushed open the door.

_No!_

But of course, his internal shout did nothing to stop what was happening. He was still moving, still walking into the hated pyramid.

He felt like killing something. He felt like turning around and running back down the steps and away from here, fleeing for the first time in his life. He felt like making it all. Just. STOP.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything except what this unknown power was making him-… Hang on… Could it be?

He shook his head violently, glad that he could at least still do that. That was a ridiculous thought. There was no _way_ that He could be doing this. He was gone. Had been for a long while, longer even than Azzanadra's stint in this vile pyramid. But still, if it _was_ Him…Well, maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Of course, there was a much larger possibility that whatever was doing this wanted to kill Azzanadra in horrible, nasty ways, or trap him in the pyramid for another four thousand years.

He started fighting again.

It didn't do anything, but it's not like he'd really expected it to. Down the ladder, through the labyrinthine tunnels, past the inconsequential creatures, down another ladder…His feet moved, he followed, to whatever end. He had no choice.

Finally, his feet stopped moving. He looked up and saw that he'd arrived in the chamber at the center of the pyramid's lowest level. Directly in front of him was the altar dedicated to his Lord. Right in front of that was the portal that would get him out of here, if only he could get to it, which he couldn't.

He felt like shouting, "What do you want?", but he didn't figure that would really do anything… Well, apart from making him feel like a complete idiot. Instead, he just stood there, waiting for his body to do something else he hadn't told it to.

Nothing happened. Surprised, he tried taking a step forward. He could. A step backward? He could do that too. Well.

He was about to make a mad dash for the exit portal when something stopped him. No, this time it wasn't mystical force that seized his limbs…it was a swirling purple portal that was opening up barely ten feet in front of him. What was going on?

Then he saw it; the hood, the shadowed face, the _symbol_… It was Him.

Shock coursed through Azzanadra. He barely managed to stay upright. How could this possibly be happening?

"M-… Master?"

"Azzanadra. It's good to see you again. And in your true form this time, no less."

Azzanadra growled. Dr. Nabanik… What a farce. Then he noticed something a little… off. "Er… Why is your portal a different color?"

"It's a different kind of portal than the last one. That one was merely for communicating. With this one I plan to reenter Gielinor, at long last."

Azzanadra wasn't quite sure how to react. Obviously this was very good news, but the way it had been said…Something weird was going on here. This was too sudden, too random, too unannounced. But he didn't say any of that.

"That's excellent news, Master."

"Yes, I quite agree. Now, prepare yourself. This may come as a bit of a shock."

"Um… What?"

"I'm coming through."

"Okay…"

"Brace yourself."

"Why?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Azzanadra! Just do as I say!"

Azzanadra bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be impertinent."

"That's better."

He looked up again, curiosity getting the better of him. "But I would like to know exactly what's going on. Why here? Why now? How is it even possible?"

A long sigh came through the swirling portal. "Here, because it's close to the center of your emotions."

"So?"

"You wanted your questions answered. Let me finish."

"Sorry."

"Now, because I can. I've just become aware of the possibility, and how… well, you'll find out in a moment."

"I will?"

"_Yes_, now be quiet! I must concentrate."

"Yes, Master."

Silence fell. Azzanadra waited. Nothing seemed to be happening, at least not that he could tell.

This was kind of lame.

He was about to speak up and say so, despite his great respect for his Lord and his great fear of his Lord's wrath, when he felt the strangest sensation go through him. Like a ripple in his very molecules. He tried to open his mouth to make some sound of protest, but he found that he couldn't. His entire body had locked up.

_What's going on?_ he wanted to yell. How many times in one day could a person be expected to lose control of their body and not complain a little? He at least wanted some kind of explanation.

_**I don't believe an explanation is needed. You'll see for yourself in a moment.**_

Azzanadra would have jumped if he'd been able to. That voice in his head was most definitely not his own. In fact, it sounded eerily similar to…

A shudder passed through his mind, and he heard one last thing before losing consciousness.

_**Hello, Gielinor. Guess who's back?**_

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**A/N: If anyone bothers to read this, it'd be great if they could bother to review. =P**_**  
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	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: Here's chapter two for all you impatient people (coughTylixecough). Hope everyone who's reading it likes it, despite the fact that it's all people I know. To my one friend who's reading this and knows nothing about the Mahjarrat, I would really suggest reading the RuneScape Wiki's page on the Mahjarrat, if you can find the time. Really. It'll help a lot.**

**Enjoy the chapter, all. =)  
**

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**Chapter Two**

Of all the stupid, moronic things Enakhra had done in her life, which there were more of than she'd like to admit, this one topped the pile. What kind of idiot went to the North and forgot their cloak at home?

Grumbling, she trudged through the snow that covered Ghorrock and wondered if she should go back for it. Mahjarrat weren't made for cold terrain, Freneskae being what it was, and she could really use the cloak's protection. On the other hand, going back for it would be a bit of a hassle.

As she stood there shivering and trying to decide, the last person she wanted to talk to came up to her.

"Enakhra," Zemouregal said, inclining his head toward her in greeting. He raised an eyebrow. "You look cold."

She glared at him. "I don't particularly feel like talking right now."

"How unfortunate," he said, leaning casually against a stone pillar, "because I kind of do."

Of course. He always did. "Not now, Zemmy."

He scowled. "Don't call me that. It sounds like the name of a small child's kitten."

"What's your point?"

He looked like he wanted to punch her for a moment, but then his expression neutralized. "I didn't come over here to argue—"

"Then you may as well leave now," she said irritably, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them up. It seemed as though she hadn't brought gloves, either.

"Enakhra…" He sighed. "Is there a reason you're so bitter?"

"Well," she said, "I'm cold, I'm annoyed, and I'm tired of waiting around for the Ritual. Also, I could really do with something to eat right now. Are those enough reasons for you?"

He just looked at her for a minute, then said, "I've got a spare cloak."

Suddenly, her decision was made. She pushed away from the wall she was leaning against. "I'm going to the desert."

Zemouregal's eyes widened. "What, now?"

"Yes, _now_," she said. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"Probab—" He broke off, narrowing his eyes. "Are you trying to avoid the pre-Ritual politics, Enakhra? Afraid someone might decide you're the one to go?"

"Right," she scoffed, "because someone might actually say, 'Oh, let's kill the last female of our race and make it impossible for us to procreate'. Somehow, I doubt that."

He glowered at her. "Well, when the one female member of our race is apparently incapable of ensuring our continued survival because of her unrequited feelings for a god, it could just happen."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm still unique. I'm putting my bets on Jhallan."

"The wimp didn't even show up to the last one, and no one's spotted him yet. I doubt he'll dare to come." He smirked. "Or maybe I'll get lucky and he'll tunnel into my basement."

"I think once was enough," Enakhra said. "Only a complete fool would try that after Lamistard's disaster." Another shiver wracked her, and she remembered that she'd been leaving. "Anyway, I'm off. See you."

Zemouregal grabbed her arm before she could teleport, and then, to her dismay, shouted, "Akthanakos!"

"Shut up!" she hissed. "What are you trying to do?"

"Stop you from leaving, obviously," he replied coolly. "It's not so cold here that you have to go to the desert to escape."

"I'm coming back!" she said indignantly. "I'm just going to get my cloak and gloves."

But Akthanakos had heard and was already heading over. "What do you want, Zemouregal?"

Zemouregal pointed to Enakhra. "She's trying to go back to the desert."

Akthanakos looked at her. "You are? Why?"

She shot Zemouregal a dark look, but he just shrugged innocently. Resigning herself to an unpleasant argument, she turned back to Akthanakos.

"I'm just going to fetch some things I forgot," she explained. "I'll be right back."

His eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion. "A likely story. I think you're trying to get a secret weapon that you plan to use against me."

_Ugh_, Enakhra thought exasperatedly. _What an idiot._ Out loud, she said, "Of course not, fool. I forgot my cloak."

He shook his head stubbornly. "You're trying to trick me again. I can tell."

"No, I'm not!" she said, annoyed. "I'm telling the truth!"

"I don't believe you."

"Look, Camelos," she said scornfully, "I don't care if you believe me or not. I'm leaving." She looked down at her arm. "Zemouregal, let go of me."

Surprisingly, he did. He looked almost apologetic, and she guessed that he believed she had planned on coming back and was regretting calling Akthanakos over. With one last glare in his direction, she quickly teleported before Akthanakos could do anything about it. She vaguely heard a "Stop her!" as she whirled away, and she smiled to herself. She loved making that dolt feel threatened. He'd probably sit there and worry that she was doing something against him the entire time she was gone. That gave her just a bit of satisfaction.

She landed on sand, turning 'falling out of the sky' into a graceful landing. Feeling the desert heat wash away her shivers, she headed off toward her temple.

She was nearing the northeast entrance when something caught the corner of her vision. Turning, she saw that the door at the top of the Jaldraocht Pyramid was opening. That was odd. She didn't think that it was the sort of place that attracted visitors, except for people who came to view it from afar.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she left her course and headed for the pyramid. She saw a figure step out and close the door, but she was still too far away to make them out clearly. As she walked, they headed down the steps, making the speed at which they came into focus much faster.

Finally, she recognized the person.

"Azzanadra?" she whispered, confused. She'd heard about his escape from the pyramid, and even if she hadn't, the inborn ability to sense the other Mahjarrat would have told her as much. She hadn't thought she'd see him here, though, of all places. Wouldn't it harbor bad memories? Or maybe he remembered so little of his entrapment that it wouldn't bother him.

After a couple more minutes, he came within speaking distance.

"Didn't expect to see you here," she said, smirking. "Kinda figured you'd avoid the place."

He didn't reply for a minute, and she noticed that his expression was oddly blank. Then he said, "Enakhra?"

"Oh, no," she said sarcastically. "I'm one of the other female Mahjarrat."

Again, he was momentarily silent. Then…

"Traitorous Zamorakian scum," he hissed.

She was a bit surprised by the abrupt subject change, but she shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess. You still hung up on that?"

He glared at her. "I shan't deign to speak with you." Scowling, he stalked off across the desert, not even glancing back.

Enakhra watched him walk away, baffled. _Shan't deign?_ There was something very wrong about that. Azzanadra wasn't really the sort to use flowery, old-time speech like that. That was generally reserved for people who thought they needed to sound educated and important, and Guthixians.

_Well, and Zaros,_ she thought, remembering his unnecessary way of talking. Maybe the follower was starting to pick up the master's bad habits.

She wasn't so much offended as she was simply confused. Zarosians and Zamorakians never got along, especially when they were as devoted to their gods as she and Azzanadra were, but something in the way he had been acting seemed somehow…off.

Oh well. It wasn't really her problem. Shrugging, she resumed her course toward her temple.

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**A/N: I really love reviews. Just for the record. =P**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: Normally, I'd wait at least a week to post a chapter of a fic I've got prewritten, but I made a promise to a certain someone (you know who you are, and yes, I'm still picking on you). Happy reading.  
**

**Oh, and thanks for the review, Corey. It makes me sad that you hate reading, but I'll overlook that on account of the very nice review. =)  
**

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**Chapter Three**

"No, not that one," Sliske muttered to himself. "Too much orange."

He wandered further along his path around the Barrows, staring intently at the ground. The small rocks that littered his path were a variety of colors, and he was determined to find the perfect one. Then, quite suddenly, he stopped.

"What am I doing?" he asked himself. "This is the most ridiculous pastime in all of Gielinor." Grumbling, he began to climb the nearest barrow. He thought it might be Karil's, but he was always getting them confused.

To his great surprise, he found the top of the barrow already occupied, and not by one of those foolish adventurers who were always coming to fight the Brothers to gain glory, wealth, and honor, or some such. No, it was one of his own kind.

"Azzanadra?" he asked, not completely sure he wasn't just seeing things. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Azzanadra hesitated ever so slightly, then said, "Yes. It is I."

It is I? Interesting. "I see that. What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," Azzanadra replied. "Are you still loyal to m-… Rather, our most powerful, great, and mighty, all-knowing Lord?"

Sliske stared at him. "I know he's great and all, but he doesn't really need that much flattering, does he?"

"Yes, he does!" Azzanadra snapped, then seemed to calm down. "Answer the question."

Sliske shrugged. "Of course. I think." He felt the fogginess coming on. "It's hard to tell anything anymore."

"So much time spent loitering around mounds of dirt would be expected to have a negative effect, I should think." Azzanadra turned and walked back down the barrow. "Follow."

Sliske didn't immediately obey. Why was Azzanadra here? Why was he acting so strangely? Most importantly, why was he ordering Sliske around without giving any explanation as to why?

But then the confusion struck, and Sliske needed no more debating. He followed Azzanadra down the barrow and out of the place that he had spent so many years never leaving.

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Azzanadra was perplexed. He was confused. He was befuddled. But most of all, he was angry. He wasn't sure who to be angry at, though. Angry at the world seemed a bit too general. Angry at his Lord…well, that could never happen. Angry at himself… that may have been it. Why did he follow that calling? Why did he go to the awful, hated Jaldraocht Pyramid?

Unfortunately, he had absolutely no way to vent his anger. Usually when he felt like this, he grabbed whatever weapon he felt like using at the time and went out to kill stuff, but this was difficult when you had no control over your limbs and no way to tell what was going on around you. Well, not no way. He'd gotten a glimpse of Enakhra a while back, in the desert. And just a few minutes ago he was sure he'd seen Sliske, however odd that might be. Perhaps the proximity of his fellow Mahjarrat helped pull him out, however briefly. He wished more of them would show up.

Of course, he did have one constant companion.

_**Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This is a great honor, as I'm sure you're aware.**_

Yes. An honor. So why did he feel so trapped, so helpless? This was his worst nightmare, wrapped right up with his greatest fantasy. To be so instrumental in his Lord's plans, but to completely lose himself in doing so. Or most of what he was, anyway. What he was had always been defined by his physical power, not the strength of his soul. Now his soul was all that was left. So what did that make him?

_**Is that really important?**_

Well, if someone had asked him that two days ago, he would've said that it wasn't. He had his power, so why imagine losing it? But now that it was gone, he desperately needed to know why he was still hanging around if all that defined who he was had vanished. It seemed kind of useless, really.

_**Would you rather be dead? Now be quiet, I need to pay attention.**_

_Pay attention?_ Azzanadra wondered. _What to?_

And then he was given another glimpse, another snatch of the free world that was so far out of his grasp.

"I need to know what's going on," Sliske was saying. "I'm not just going to follow you unconditionally, you know. I work for myself. You'd have to be Zaros himself for me to change that."

If Azzanadra had been able to, he would have snorted with amusement. If only Sliske knew who he was really talking to.

Then Azzanadra heard his own voice reply, and could even feel his Lord's irritation. "I believe that you may be interested in the arrangement I have in mind."

"Okay," Sliske said. "So tell me what it is." He crossed his arms. "I'm not following you anywhere until you've explained things a bit. You're acting like a lunatic."

"And you aren't? When I found you, you were puttering around the Barrows looking for pretty rocks."

Sliske scowled. "Yeah, well, my head's a bit clearer now that I've gotten out of that place. Must've been the marsh air. So what's your pla-…Sorry, your 'arrangement'?"

"I think it is about time that someone dealt with the usurper who stole the greatest one's throne. I wish to kill Zamorak."

The expression on Sliske's face was absolutely priceless. "K-kill Zamorak?" he spluttered. "Have you gone mad?" He paused. "Oh, wait…Yeah, you have." He shook his head. "I'm not the one to talk to. You want to get rid of Zamorak, go ask Lucien. He's got it on his agenda already anyway."

"Lucien? That powerless worm?"

"You know as well as I do that he's a bit less of a pansy than he used to be," Sliske replied. "Having the Staff of Armadyl will do that."

"That moron has the Staff of Armadyl? Why was I not informed of this?" Azzanadra could feel his Lord's anger, bubbling up and threatening to spew over in the form of murder.

Sliske just looked confused. "Uh…I thought you knew. Actually, I'm fairly certain you knew. You may have been locked in a pyramid for four thousand years, but you're not completely uninformed." His expression turned rather suspicious. "What's going on with you? Something is definitely not right."

"I don't…that you…intelligence…" The words were fading, and the crystal clear image of Sliske was fading to black.

_No!_ Azzanadra thought, trying desperately to get back out. He had to know what was going on. Straining with all his mental power, while wishing that it was even half of his physical capacity, he managed to hold on to a small piece of the scenery that he'd been looking at; a small, green and purple plant. He had never been so happy to be looking at a flower before in his life. _If I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to turned into a sappy, over-emotional fool._ The thought was not comforting.

But he had a flower. Trying to imagine that he was pulling himself up a rope with his powerful upper body, he pulled the outside world back to himself, focusing on Sliske in the hopes that his Mahjarrat theory was accurate.

…And it was back. He could see Sliske again, who now had an indifferent expression on his face.

"Okay, fine," Sliske said, "I'll help you. I don't like the idea of working with that spineless-yet-tyrannical twit, but I'll help you. Let's get going."

Azzanadra was disappointed. He'd missed the important part. Did Sliske know that it wasn't really him, or had the question somehow been avoided? Now he might never know.

But he could see what was going on, and even if it took extreme amounts of concentration, he could hold on to it.

That was something, anyway.

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**A/N: Yep... Reviews are still _very_ nice. =P**


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: I know you all (my few readers, anyway) will be disappointed to hear this, but this is the last chapter that I have written. Past this, I'll actually have to write them before I can post them, so I won't be updating daily like I have been. Sorry. I'll get around to it soon, though.**

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**Chapter Four**

When Enakhra teleported back to Ghorrock, the place was in uproar. She made her way to the center of the fortress where all of the present Mahjarrat were gathered. Pushing her way to the front of the — admittedly very small — crowd, she saw Lucien and Zemouregal in the middle, glaring at each other.

So Lucien had finally showed up. She'd been wondering if he would. He was enough of an idiot that she'd half expected to find out that he thought the Staff of Armadyl would give him enough power to skip the Ritual, which of course was very far from the truth. It didn't matter what shiny new toys you had, being a Mahjarrat meant taking part in the Ritual or slowly losing your power. There was really no way around that.

"So you decided to join us after all, I see," Zemouregal said. "I was wondering." Enakhra suddenly wished that she hadn't been thinking the exact same thing. There was nothing in all of Gielinor that she wanted to share with Zemouregal, even passing thoughts.

"Of courthe, couthin," Lucien said. "How could I mith it?"

Enakhra heard a few snickers from the assembled Mahjarrat, and although she didn't show it outwardly, she quite agreed with them. Lucien's lisp was something of a running joke among them all. How could you take someone seriously when they couldn't even say their own name properly? Unfortunately, Lucien was growing powerful enough that they may just need to take him seriously at some point.

Zemouregal shrugged. "You really couldn't, but I think we were all wondering if you might anyway. I've heard that newfound power has a way of going to your head, if you catch my drift."

"Yeth," Lucien said, his tone somewhere between haughty and indignant, "but I am above all that, tho you needn't worry."

Dead silence, approximately equivalent of a nice dot-dot-dot, as they all wondered just how naïve Lucien was.

"Cousin," Zemouregal said finally, "you are a fool."

Lucien seemed to be attempting to formulate a response to that, but luckily for him, he didn't end up needing it. Just then, two shapes materialized above the group and fell gently down to land on the snow next to them.

Enakhra stared. Azzanadra, she supposed she should have expected, but Sliske? That was definitely a surprise. She hadn't seen him in a very, very long time. If it hadn't been for the fact that she could still sense his presence somewhere on Gielinor, she would have thought he was dead. But he needed to attend the Ritual just as much as the rest of them, so perhaps it really wasn't that surprising.

"Well, hello." Akthanakos, the only other Zarosian Mahjarrat currently present, was the first to greet the newcomers.

Sliske, who had never really been one for making small talk, simply raised his hand in a mild greeting. Azzanadra didn't even bother responding to Akthanakos' words. He just scanned the crowd, his gaze stopping on Lucien.

"Lucien," he said, "I wish to speak to you."

Remembering her meeting with him in the desert, Enakhra watched Azzanadra carefully. His voice still seemed to hold the same odd cadence that it had then, and there was definitely still something a bit off about him. She may not like him, but she did know him, and she could tell that something was definitely not right. She only wished she knew what it was. Her curiosity often got the better of her, and right now, it was definitely piqued.

Lucien seemed a bit surprised to be singled out like that, but he nodded anyway. "Okay," he said. "I gueth." He followed Azzanadra and Sliske away from the rest of the Mahjarrat, just far enough to be out of earshot.

Frowning, Enakhra looked around. She wanted to share her observations with someone else and see if they agreed with her, but she didn't particularly want to talk to any of the others. Zemouregal got on her nerves, Akthanakos was obviously not someone she'd ever go to talk to, Hazeel was too much of a moron to be of any help…

After a moment's thought, she settled on Bilrach. He had a nasty temper, but if you didn't anger him, he could be okay. She headed over to him.

"Hey, Bill," she said, trying to make sure that her tone didn't give him any reason to be annoyed at her. "You got a minute?"

"Of course," he said. "What do we have but time these days? Bloody Ritual involves an awful lot of waiting. Why do you ask?"

She glanced around to make sure no one would overhear her, then said, "Does Azzanadra seem a little… odd to you?"

Bilrach shrugged. "He's always seemed a little odd to me. 'Oh great Master Zaros, I would jump off a cliff if you told me to' and all that nonsense."

"Well, yes," she agreed. "Other than that, though. You don't think he seems kind of out of character?"

"I'll admit that wanting to talk to Lucien is odd for anyone," he said, "but past that, I hadn't noticed anything."

"Oh." Enakhra shrugged. "I guess I could just be losing my mind. See you later, Bill." He nodded, and she walked back over to where she'd been standing.

Despite what she'd said to Bilrach, she still thought something strange was going on, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Azzanadra was rather pleased. Being around so many Mahjarrat was making it completely effortless to stay in contact with the outside world, which was definitely improving his sour mood. Yeah, being unable to control his body sucked, but if he could still see everything, he was okay. Not to mention, he had kept up a constant mantra of "I'm serving my Lord, I'm serving my Lord" all the way from Morytania. That had helped a bit too.

He had also gathered that Sliske did not know who was really talking to him using Azzanadra's mouth, as he had said things such as "like Zaros used to" and "if Zaros was here" a couple times in passing.

_**He doesn't know, so please cease obsessing about it.**_

Oh, that's right. There was someone else in his head with him who had been in contact with the world the entire time. How had he managed to forget that, exactly?

_**The ways of the foolish are always obscure. Now be quiet. You are distracting me.**_

Azzanadra quickly snapped his attention back to the conversation at hand, which was with a rather confused looking Lucien.

"What did you want to thpeak to me about?" he asked. "Ith it important?"

_**I hate this fool's lisp. Is there no way for him to control it?**_

Azzanadra was startled. Had he just overheard his Lord's thoughts? So far it had seemed as though he only heard what Zaros wanted him to hear, but this one seemed like a purely observational thought. Interesting…

"It is of the utmost importance," Azzanadra heard himself say. "I believe you will be very interested in what I have to offer."

"Offer?" Lucien asked. "What can you offer that I don't already have? The Thtaff of Armadyl ith more than anything you can give me."

"Ah, but what do you plan to use the Staff, and as I've heard, the Stone of Jas, for?"

Lucien frowned. "I don't think I want to tell you my thecret planth. You don't even like me. You might try to uthe them againtht me."

"Hardly. And I think your plans are not as secret as you believe them to be, as Sliske has already informed me that your plan is to overthrow Zamorak as leader of the Mahjarrat and, eventually, a god."

Lucien's expression was comically dejected. "Oh. I thee."

"I am simply offering that myself and Sliske try to help you. I assume that you could use the extra power?"

"No," Lucien said. "I can take him by mythelf. I am becoming more and more powerful by the day. There'th no reathon I can't do it alone."

"Perhaps not, but wouldn't you rather be sure that you can manage it? Wouldn't you rather know that Zamorak will die?"

"Die?" Lucien asked. "You're thaying… _kill_ Zamorak?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Was that not actually your eventual plan?"

"Um…not really." Lucien looked a bit confused. "It'th not nethethary, ith it?"

"Necessary? No. Preferred? Of course. If you are attempting to overpower him anyway, why would you not just end it then? Why let him continue to live?"

"I… I don't know." Lucien was obviously uncomfortable now. "I gueth… becauthe he'th a god, and killing him would be really hard?"

"It wouldn't be with two more, quite powerful Mahjarrat on your side. Consider the option for a moment. Does it not seem preferable to attempting it alone?"

"You know, this sounds great and all," Sliske interrupted, "but killing Zamorak is going to be a bit difficult when he's on a different plane and not allowed to come to this one anymore."

_**WHAT?**_

Azzanadra cringed mentally. Apparently Zaros hadn't heard about that one just yet.

* * *

**A/N: And this is where it ends for a bit. Reviews may make me want to write more, though. Just saying.**

**P.S. In case anyone who comes along and decides to read this is a Jagex purist, I'd like to state that I know Lucien does not have a lisp in-game. As I believe I stated in my disclaimer that my friends and I have different opinions. If you don't like them, go away. But review first. =P  
**


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: Okay, Alex, all your pestering paid off. I squeezed in one last chapter of this before NaNoWriMo. I hope you're happy.**

**And everyone else, happy reading.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"Something about this whole situation seems off," Saradomin said, stroking his long, white beard. "I sense… a disturbance."

"You sense a disturbance?" Zamorak replied, scoffing. "What does that mean?"

"I have yet to decide upon that matter," Saradomin said. "I just feel that something is not right."

"How very vague," Zamorak said, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table in front of him. "If you're going to sense disturbances, couldn't you at least do it in a way that gives you some information about them?"

Saradomin glared at him. "Have I ever mentioned how much you annoy me?"

"A few times, yeah."

Saradomin looked like he might say something else, but then seemed to think better of it. He turned away, facing the window.

Zamorak couldn't let him off that easily, though. There was little to do in this place, and pestering Saradomin had become his favorite hobby.

"So which situation are you talking about?" he asked. "This situation that has a disturbance."

Saradomin didn't turn around. "One that I don't even know why I am bothering to study. It's really more in your area of expertise, Zamorak."

"My areas of expertise are vast," Zamorak said. "Which one are you referring to?"

Saradomin ignored the arrogance. "This Mahjarrat affair. The Ritual."

"Yeah, I guess I would know more about that," Zamorak said, "being a Mahjarrat and all. What's that got to do with disturbances?"

"That's the situation that I was referring to," Saradomin explained. "I sense something rather off about some of the happenings going on there. Azzanadra, in particular."

Zamorak scowled. "I never liked him, even before our loyalties went separate ways. Always seemed a bit full of himself."

"Hm," Saradomin said, stroking his beard again. "I wonder if he might now be full of something other than himself."

"What the hell does that mean?" Zamorak asked, an eyebrow raised. "Are you saying you think he's been possessed or something?"

"What?" Saradomin glanced around, seeming to come out of a strange trance. "Oh, no. Not really. He's just been acting rather oddly recently. Enakhra's noticed it, though none of the others seem to have."

Enakhra… He'd kept a close eye on her for a while, but eventually given it up when her actions consisted of nothing more than a whole lot of moping. He had wondered for a while whether his rejection of her temple may have meant more to her than he'd thought, considering her reaction.

"She was always rather perceptive," he said. "Certainly showed me what was what enough for me to realize that."

Saradomin finally turned away from the window. "So would you say that her observations should generally be taken seriously?"

Zamorak shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Then she may be on to something," Saradomin said. "Perhaps we should look into this."

"Why?" Zamorak asked, disgruntled. "It's not like we can do anything about whatever may or may not be going on. Guthix's stupid rules and all that."

"Well…" Saradomin trailed off. "I don't know. It seems intelligent to keep up-to-date on the happenings of Gielinor, wouldn't you agree?"

"Doesn't seem like it matters too much, at this point."

"Perhaps not," Saradomin said. "But it could turn out to be useful someday. And," he added, "it would be something to do."

Zamorak dropped his feet off the table. "Well, you've got me convinced. Let's kill the boredom."

* * *

"What's the point of being a god if the most you can do is look at stuff?" Zamorak said a few hours later, watching the goings on of Ghorrock through the portal Saradomin had opened. "It used to be fun. Then Guthix woke up and suddenly everything was utterly boring."

"He had the world's best interests at heart, I'm sure," Saradomin said, but even he had resorted to braiding blades of grass into a long rope to keep the boredom at bay.

"I don't give a damn about the world's best interests," Zamorak said, feeling thoroughly annoyed. "I miss the good old days, when starting wars and flirting with humans wasn't on the no-go list." He kicked a rock, and it flew into a tree, splitting the bark. "This is stupid."

"You sound like a vexed six-year-old," Saradomin said, not looking up from his grass braid.

Zamorak huffed and sat down against the tree that his rock had just assaulted. "Being mature is for pansies. No reason not to vent your anger whenever you feel the need."

Saradomin just sighed.

A few minutes later, Zamorak was roused from his sulking by a voice drifting out of the portal.

"_Wouldn't you rather know that Zamorak will die?"_

He jumped up, scrambling over to the portal. Who the hell was trying to kill him? Staring down at Ghorrock, he saw Azzanadra, Sliske, and Lucien deep in conversation. Listening intently, he came to the assumption that Azzanadra was coercing Lucien into helping him.

_To kill me,_ Zamorak thought. The idea was ridiculous of course, because as Sliske had pointed out, there wasn't much they could do from Gielinor.

"Enakhra's right," Saradomin said, and Zamorak noticed that he hadn't been alone in watching the conversation. "Something is rather strange about Azzanadra's behavior, and his speech patterns."

Zamorak shrugged. "I've never known Enakhra to be wrong about that sort of thing. But you have to admit, the guy did just spend four thousand years locked in a pyramid. I think anyone would act a little funny after that."

Saradomin shook his head. "Azzanadra was not awake throughout his imprisonment. When he regained consciousness, it would have seemed to him as though no time had passed. The only effect, I believe, would be a slight disorientation. Nothing more."

"So what you're saying is that's _not_ the reason behind his flowery speech and sudden desire for my death?"

"I don't believe so, no," Saradomin said, frowning. "Something about this whole situation—"

"Feels like a disturbance?" Zamorak offered. "You said that earlier."

"That was not what I was going to say," Saradomin said, sounding irritated. "I was intending to say that it seemed strangely familiar. I feel like I should know the answer to this. The speech patterns, the vengeful sort of…" He trailed off, his expression becoming that of someone who's just had an epiphany. "Revenge. That's what this is. You were closer than you would probably have thought, Zamorak. I believe that Azzanadra _has_ been possessed."

"Really?" Zamorak asked skeptically. "By who?"

"You won't like the answer," Saradomin said. "In fact, it chills me to my very bones."

"Just spit it out," Zamorak said grouchily. "Despite the fact that we probably do have all day, that's still annoying."

Saradomin looked him in the eye. "Zaros."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah...I don't know how well this went. =/ Here's to hoping I haven't in any way damaged my story. (crosses fingers)**

**Review?  
**


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: Meh. I don't particularly like this chapter, but I needed a way to get where I was going. I'll try to update faster next time, though. Sorry about the wait.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Azzanadra waited while Zaros stewed over his newest discovery. Not like he could do much else.

_**Did you know about this?**_

Azzanadra replied with the mental equivalent of a shrug. _Yeah. Sort of._

_**Why did you not inform me of it? Did you not realize that it would be most important?**_

_Didn't think about it._

_**Of course not. **_He could have sworn he heard Zaros sigh in exasperation. _**You have never made thinking a great habit, have you?**_

Azzanadra was rather insulted. He may have preferred to use force over strategy, but he didn't think he quite deserved that remark. He stayed silent, wondering if sulking actually worked when your mind was connected to the person you were giving the cold shoulder.

It was somewhat beside the point, as Zaros didn't seem to care. He had gone back to the conversation with Lucien and Sliske.

"If this is true," he was saying to Lucien, "how did you plan to kill him?"

Lucien looked rather uncertain. "Ah… I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I wath thtill in the protheth of collecting enough power."

"How useful."

Azzanadra was surprised. He hadn't known that his Lord actually understood sarcasm.

_**Hours spent in your mind has greatly expanded my knowledge of the art.**_

Oh.

"Actually," Sliske said, looking thoughtful, "I may have an idea. I've only heard rumors, but if they're true, there could be something that's exactly what you're looking for."

"And what might this unknown object be?"

"I don't know what it's really called," Sliske said, "but Bill has been referring to it as 'The Rift'. He's been digging for centuries, trying to find it."

"What does it do, and how do you know of it?"

Sliske smiled slyly. "The shadows know more than you might expect. As for what it does, well… the theory is that it'll bring Zamorak back from wherever he is, onto this plane. No idea if that's true or not, but there you have it."

Azzanadra was struck by the coincidence of that. It seemed that while he had been researching, trying to figure out a way to bring his god back into Gielinor, Bilrach had been digging into the earth in an attempt to do the exact same thing for his own god. Thinking about where he had ended up, he wondered if Bilrach really knew what he was getting himself into.

_**Are you feeling sorry for yourself again?**_

_Definitely not. I am entirely happy to be stuck in my own mind with no way of actually doing or impacting anything. _

_**Did you not just learn that sarcasm no longer works on me?**_

Ah, right. How unfortunate.

"So you're thaying that there'th a way to bring Zamorak here?" Lucien asked. "That'th interethting. I had alwayth athumed that I would go to where he wath to fight him."

"Why did you assume that?" Sliske asked.

Lucien frowned. "Um… I don't know."

Sliske rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Could we get back to the subject at hand?" Zaros asked irritably. "Has Bilrach found this… Rift yet?"

Sliske shook his head. "No. Why do you think they're just rumors? If you can find an excuse to talk to him about it, you might find out more."

"Find an excuse? Why would that be necessary?"

Sliske just looked at him for a minute. "Did you lose some of your wits while you were stuck in that pyramid? You really think you can just walk up to someone who's as devoted to Zamorak as you are to Zaros and say, 'So what about this thing you're digging for to bring Zamorak back?' I think he'd be more than a little suspicious."

Azzanadra could feel Zaros bristling at the insult. As a god, no one had ever insulted him, or even been anything less than perfectly polite. It seemed that it was taking some getting used to.

_**What would you have done in this situation, Azzanadra?**_

If he'd had the ability, Azzanadra would have gaped in shock. Zaros was actually asking his advice on something? The world must be coming out of alignment.

_**Oh, don't be like that. I am merely attempting to keep myself in character. The longer I can hold on to this charade, the more likely I am to be successful.**_

_Um…_ Why could he not figure out how he would have reacted? It was his own personality he was trying to judge on. It really shouldn't be that difficult. _I guess it would depend on my mood. It's possible I would try to dismember him, but it wasn't really that bad of an insult. And I think we need him. I'd try to hold myself back, most likely._

_**Thank you. I will do that.**_

Azzanadra wondered if being stuck in someone else's body was maybe having as much of an effect on Zaros as being stuck in his own mind was having on him, because he had never heard Zaros say 'Thank you' before.

* * *

Enakhra watched Azzanadra, Lucien, and Sliske intently, wishing she could hear what they were saying. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed to be a very heated conversation.

"See something interesting, Enakhra?" a voice asked from slightly behind her. She turned to see Zemouregal, who looked faintly annoyed. "I never took you to be one who enjoyed staring."

"Or maybe you just wish I was staring a different direction. Say, your direction?" She turned back to watch the conversation, hoping that he might get the message for once and go away.

Of course, he didn't. Ignoring her comment, he said, "What exactly are you finding so fascinating about a conversation that you can't even hear?"

"Azzanadra's been acting rather odd," she said. "Not to mention, the combination of those particular three people makes me a little uncomfortable. I thought it might be a good idea to keep an eye on them."

Zemouregal sighed. "You're not doing that thing where you see conspiracy theories around every corner, are you? Has your lonely bitterness made you distrustful and paranoid?"

"I'm not insane," she replied coldly. "If you don't believe me, you could at least just leave me alone."

"That doesn't sound particularly interesting," he said. "Even if you _are_ insane, you're still far less boring than the rest of them."

She couldn't decide if that was an insult or a compliment, and after spending a couple seconds trying to figure it out, decided that she didn't much care. "How many times do I have to say 'go away' before you'll actually do it?"

"Get over yourself, Enakhra," he said, sounding vexed. "You act like you're so much more important than everyone else. I don't care if it comes from being the only female Mahjarrat, it is intensely annoying."

"This coming from the guy who wrote 'This is me, I am amazing' under his own name when he was making notes on the Mahjarrat," she replied, rolling her eyes.

He froze. "How… You've read my notes?"

She just smiled slightly in return. There were a few moments of silence, and she was just thinking that she may have finally found a way to shut Zemouregal up when she noticed movement from the three conversers.

Azzanadra was making his way purposefully toward Bilrach.

_Er… What?_

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it. Review? =)**_  
_


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N: Ahem! I wish to announce that I have absolutely _nothing_ to say in this here author's note. **

**You may now read that chapter. Thank you.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Zamorak just stared at Saradomin for a few minutes. Finally, he managed to choke out, "Za-… Zaros?"

Saradomin nodded. "Indeed. It fits perfectly. I haven't the faintest idea how he could have managed to come back, even if he is only possessing Azzanadra, but it does seem within his capabilities."

Zamorak shook his head, unconsciously backing away from the portal. "It's not possible. He's dead. I killed him myself."

"He is a god, Zamorak," Saradomin said. "I am not even sure if he's able to be killed. I believe that all you really did was banish him from this plane. If you had been paying closer attention to what was going on in Gielinor, you would have known that Azzanadra has in fact _already contacted him_. This was bound to happen eventually."

"Yeah," Zamorak agreed, "but 'eventually' always seems a bit further off than that, you know?"

Silence fell, only to be broken by the sound of the conversation that was still happening on the other side of the portal. Sliske seemed to be saying something about a 'Rift'.

"_As for what it does, well… the theory is that it'll bring Zamorak back from wherever he is, onto this plane."_

Zamorak looked up in surprise. "Is that true?"

"I do not know," Saradomin said, his brow furrowing slightly. "It seems unlikely."

"Unlikely?" Zamorak asked, smirking. "Like Azzanadra being possessed by Zaros was unlikely? Because if that's the case…"

"No," Saradomin replied, looking mildly annoyed. "That was different. This 'Rift' that Bilrach is apparently searching for… It seems less possible."

Still, Zamorak couldn't help getting a little excited. If there really was something that could bring him back to Gielinor, he was prepared to have the time of his life when he got there. The world had become far too lawful, in his opinion.

Someone needed to stir up a little chaos.

* * *

Azzanadra thought that what Zaros was doing was a very bad idea. He didn't say that, of course, but he was thinking it. Unfortunately, he had managed to forget that in his current situation, the two may as well have been the same thing.

_**Why, pray tell, do you dislike this idea so much?**_

_I, uh… Well, it just… Have you ever seen Bill when he's angry? And I thought we were trying not to make anyone suspicious._

_**You sound anxious. Were you not the one who was never anxious? I seem to recall you were usually the first to charge blindly into dangerous situations.**_

Was that true? He guessed it was. What had happened to him?

_**Perhaps this experiment of mine is actually an experiment in what a person's personality really consists of, and not in the transferring of consciousness. I had not expected that.**_

Azzanadra didn't want to think about what that meant. He was feeling insecure enough as it was.

_**If you wish to ignore it in the hopes that it might go away, I suppose that is your own prerogative.**_

Meh.

They had come up to Bilrach now, and Azzanadra couldn't quench the feeling that something unpleasant was going to come of the encounter. This didn't change when the master demon summoner turned to them and scowled.

…and Azzanadra realized that he had just thought of himself as multiple people, something that was quickly followed by the realization that it was entirely accurate. Gods, he needed to get out of there.

"What do _you_ want?" Bilrach asked, his voice hostile.

"There is no need to be unfriendly," Zaros said, and just by that Azzanadra knew that the conversation was not going to go well. "I merely wish to speak with you."

Bilrach's eyes narrowed, and he began to turn an unpleasant red color. "No need to be unfriendly?" he spluttered. "I see _every_ need to be unfriendly. Would you like me to list the reasons?"

_**This is not going well.**_

_Really? I hadn't noticed._

"I don't think that will be necessary, no," Zaros said. "Is it entirely implausible for us to have a civilized conversation?"

Bilrach shot him an incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, did you just suggest that _you_ and _I_ have a _civilized conversation_? What desert island have you been living on? Oh, wait… It was a pyramid, wasn't it?"

Azzanadra and Zaros both bristled at that. Azzanadra, because any mention of pyramids tended to irritate him. Zaros, because somebody was actually _insulting him_.

"Is it possible for you to calm yourself?" Zaros asked, his tone dark. "I have never encountered someone who was as unable to control their emotions as you are."

"What makes you think I'm _trying _to control them?" Bilrach was getting closer and closer to shouting. "I have every right to be angry! I would greatly appreciate just being _left alone_."

"You are a disrespectful, overemotional lunatic," Zaros said. "Do you have any idea who–" He cut himself off, seeming to remember that he was supposed to be masquerading as someone else. "If I were you, I would fear for your life."

_Don't threaten him!_ Azzanadra thought. Not that he wouldn't have been threatening Bilrach, if put in the same position, but that was irrelevant. He'd never realized just how much you could see if you were outside of the conflict. It was much easier to judge things when you weren't the one getting angry.

_**Have you not been listening? I believe threatening him may be the only way.**_

_It's not. He doesn't listen to threats. He thinks he's just as powerful as I am. He's not, obviously, but he's not going to be scared if you tell him to fear for his life._

_**I see no alternative. I must learn everything I can about this.**_

_Just say 'The Rift'. _Azzanadra didn't know why he'd suggested that, but it seemed like it might surprise Bilrach enough to stop him from making all of the Mahjarrat come over to see what was going on.

_**Don't be ridiculous. How would that help?**_

_Just say 'The Rift',_ Azzanadra repeated. _Try it._

_**No. Absolutely not.**_

Vaguely, Azzanadra was aware of Bilrach getting louder and louder, insulting everything from Zaros' intellect to his parentage. Not that Bilrach really knew who he was talking to.

_Just say 'The Rift'._

_**No.**_

_Say it!_

_**No.**_

_Say 'The Rift'!_

"The Rift."

Everything stopped. Bilrach looked up in astonishment, having stopped his tirade in midsentence.

Azzanadra's thoughts paused momentarily, then started back up in overdrive. Had he really just done what he thought he'd just done? No. It couldn't be possible. He hadn't even been entertaining ideas of it.

_**Did I do that? No, I must not have. I had not planned on saying that!**_

And now he was getting Zaros' thoughts again. Something very odd was going on, and Zaros was so preoccupied with it, he didn't even seem to be monitoring Azzanadra's thoughts.

"What did you say?"

Zaros had been in a stunned silence, but Bilrach's question snapped him back to life. "I said, 'The Rift'."

"That's what I thought you said," Bilrach said, looking somehow both dazed and angry. "How do you know about that? _What_ do you know about that?"

"I have heard that it will bring Zamorak back to this plane," Zaros said. "And I have also heard that _you_ are digging for it."

"Great," Bilrach muttered. "Wonderful. So _how_ do you know? Who told you?"

"Sliske did," Zaros replied, "but that is not important. I would like to know more about it. Is it real? Are you close to it?"

"Why in Zamorak's name would I tell _you_ that?" Bilrach asked. "If you think you can pull what Enakhra did to Akthanakos, think again. I'm not that foolish. I know you don't want Zamorak back in Gielinor. You've always been a Zarosian, through and through. Don't think for a _minute_ that I'll believe you've switched sides."

"Of course not. I would never do such a blasphemous thing, but that does not mean that I would never wish to see Zamorak here again. In fact, I would welcome it."

"Come again?" Bilrach was obviously confused, and Azzanadra didn't blame him. "You _want_ the archenemy of your god to come back and have the power to influence and disturb things again, when your god himself hasn't even managed it?"

Ignoring the last remark, Zaros said, "Yes. Peace is boring. One must have conflict, wouldn't you agree? And revenge… That is also a powerful motivator." He paused. "If I were to bring Zaros back into Gielinor, and you were to bring Zamorak back, we could finally determine who is the more powerful being. A fair fight; no staves of power, no backstabbing."

The light of challenge glinted in Bilrach's eyes. "And we Mahjarrat… We would have to be in on it too, no?"

Zaros gave a short nod. "Of course."

Bilrach smiled evilly. "Then, my miserable foe, I believe we may have ourselves a deal."

* * *

**A/N: Wow. That was so totally not where I had expected this chapter to go, but you know, it works very nicely. Thank the gods for random plot twists!**

**And I wouldn't mind a few reviews, too. Those are just as nice.**


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N: I think it's been a few weeks since my last update, so I'll apologize for that. I had been trying to update once a week, but it doesn't seem to be working. -sigh-  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

When Bilrach had himself worked into a rage, it was incredibly easy to sneak up behind him. And when Azzanadra looked like he was staring at another planet, it was pretty easy to sneak up on him too.

Enakhra had managed to sidle close enough to the conversation to hear the end of it, and now she was getting _herself_ worked up. What they were talking about… It couldn't be true. Why had Bilrach not told her about this? Hadn't he thought she'd be interested?

She waited until Azzanadra had walked back over to rejoin Sliske and Lucien, and then she stalked toward Bilrach.

"What is this 'Rift'?" she asked, stopping in front of him and crossing her arms. "And just how long have you been looking for it without letting anyone else know?"

He immediately looked like he was going on the defensive, and she regretted taking on such an angry tone of voice.

"I see absolutely no reason why I should tell you that," he replied, his eyes narrowed. "What I do with my time is my own business."

She attempted to soften her tone. "Look, I just meant that if you'd _told_ me you were trying to bring Zamorak back, I would have done everything in my power to help you. And don't you think that two of us would have a better chance than one?"

"Perhaps," Bilrach agreed, seeming to relax slightly. "I tend to prefer working alone, however."

"Alone?" she asked, trying to keep her cool. "So does that mean that making a deal with Azzanadra is considered 'working alone'? He's a _Zarosian_, Bill! Why is it that you're willing to work with one of _them_, but you're not willing to work with _me_? You must know that if you could trust anyone with the secret of how to return Zamorak, if would be me."

Bilrach eyes flashed. "I don't trust _anyone_, Enakhra! How dare you come over here and start accusing me like this?"

"I'm not accusing you," she said, exasperated. This conversation wasn't really going in a useful direction, and she knew she had to somehow get back on Bilrach's good side. "I'm just feeling a little left out, that's all."

"That's not my problem," he said, sounding disgruntled. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to have my solitude back."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry if I pissed you off, Bill." _Not that it's that hard to do,_ she added silently. "Basically all I was getting at was that I want to help you, and since you seem to be putting together a team, well… I'm putting myself on it. Don't try to argue with me, because if Azzanadra qualifies, then I sure as hell do."

Surprisingly, Bilrach didn't scowl at her or do anything else that would indicate anger. He just looked at her calculatingly, and said, "Fine."

She nodded once. "Good."

As she was turning to leave, Zemouregal stepped up beside her, a small smirk on his face. "So do I get a part in this?"

Bilrach threw his hands up. "Fine, sure, whatever! Just call the whole bloody continent to come dig in my tunnels!" Muttering under his breath, he turned and stalked away.

Zemouregal grinned. "I suddenly don't care that I have no idea what is it I've just signed up for. _That_ was entertaining."

Enakhra glanced sideways at him. "I take it you didn't hear the entire conversation, then?"

"I didn't, no," he said. "Apparently it's something to do with tunnels."

Sighing, and wondering how she'd ended up in on something with the bane of her existence, she filled him in on the goings-on.

* * *

"Well, would you look at that!" Zamorak said cheerfully from where he was leaning against a tree. "I've got myself an entire team working to bring me back to Gielinor. Who would have thought it?"

Saradomin sighed. "I can tell that you're far too enthusiastic about this. Do you know what the chances of this actually happening are?" Then he shrugged. "But I suppose I don't care. If you want to get yourself worked up, I think I shall enjoy watching you get let down."

"Thank you for your pessimistic words of wisdom," Zamorak said. "Now if you'll excuse me while I take no heed of them…"

"Be that way if you will," Saradomin said, "but I don't believe I feel like staying around to listen to it." He stood up and headed back toward the house, taking his six grass braids with him.

Zamorak smiled internally, glad to finally have some peace from the old man. In fact, he was glad about pretty much everything that was currently going on. His mood just kept heading up.

The only thing hindering it was the small purple pebble labeled 'Zaros'.

* * *

"We have to work with _him_?" Sliske asked, clearly distasteful of the idea. He was glaring across the courtyard to where Bilrach was conversing with Enakhra. "_Why?_"

"My plans will not succeed without some way of bringing myself to where Zamorak is," Zaros said, "or bringing him to where I am. I have yet to hear of any other means of doing so. If you have, by all means, please share. I would not be adverse to finding a way of doing this without being forced to make deals with Zamorakians."

Azzanadra chuckled mentally at the expression on Sliske's face. It was a mix of sullenness and exasperation, a look that Sliske managed to pull off surprisingly well.

"Yes, my lord," he said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, my lord. I don't see why _you_ get to be in charge of all this."

_**I can take little more of this,**_Zaros fumed. _**Is there no way to assert my authority? Are you really that much of a pushover?**_

Azzanadra bristled. _A pushover? Not even close! I would think that you, of all people, would know that. I was always a hugely formidable opponent, and anyone who says otherwise is just jealous._

_**Is there a reason you have begun speaking of yourself in the past tense, Azzanadra?**_

_What?_

But Zaros seemed to have dropped the conversation, and Azzanadra was left to dwell on the question. Why the hell _was_ he thinking of himself like that?

"I am in charge, Sliske," Zaros said, "because I am the only one here who had the presence of mind to actually attempt this."

"I beg to differ," Lucien said, sounding more like he was attempting to sound intelligent than like he actually an advanced enough vocabulary to use that sort of speech in everyday conversations. "I wath the firtht perthon here to put thith tathk on my agenda."

Sliske snorted. "That may be true, but somehow I doubt you would have gotten very far with a mental capacity like _that_. I, on the other hand, am clearly the most intelligent person here. I think I have every right to wonder why I'm not the one leading this strange enterprise we have going."

Before Zaros could begin trying to defend his own intelligence, Azzanadra stepped in.

_As much as I hate to say it, I've admitted to him before that he _is_ the more intelligent of the two of us, or at least more cunning. Denying that now could give you away. Just say something about physical capabilities. He won't question that, at least not in that way._

_**Ah. I am glad you warned me.**_

"The reason I am running this _enterprise_, as you put it," Zaros said, "is because I could remove your head from your neck before you could say, 'Your intelligence is a tiny speck in your overly large head'. Do not question me again."

"I highly doubt that," Sliske muttered, but as Azzanadra had predicted, he didn't argue or question it.

Azzanadra couldn't help but feel a little smug. _Oh, yeah. I'm good._

_**Do not start feeling arrogant where I can hear you.**_

_Why not? Maybe it'll help me remember that I actually do still exist, and stop referring to myself like I'm dead._

He got no reply to that, which he understood to mean that he may have actually had a point.

_See? I _am_ good._

He got no reply to that, either.

* * *

**A/N: Yep. There it is.**

**Review?  
**


	9. Chapter Nine

**A/N: Okay, so I know it's been a while. –checks last update date– …Two months. I'm very sorry. My lame excuse for at least the past couple weeks is a horrible, horrible case of complete writer's block in which I updated not one of my stories. I barely wrote two hundred words. It was appalling and unpleasant, but I seem to be over it. At least over it enough to bang out this chapter at ten thirty at night.  
**

**Enjoy, oh Shadows-of-a-Lost-Mind-deprived readers of mine. =)**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

"Before I let you bunch of uncontrollable delinquents into my tunnels," Bilrach announced, stopping and turning around to face the rest of the group, "I want to make a few things perfectly clear. I am not allowing you down here because I enjoy company, nor am I doing it because I think my work would benefit that much from your help."

"Then why _are_ you doing it?" Zemouregal asked, looking amused.

Bilrach opened his mouth, closed it again, then said, "Because."

Zemouregal raised an eyebrow and looked like he was going to make something of it, but Enakhra didn't think that getting into an argument would be particularly useful.

"Azzanadra challenged him, basically," she told Zemouregal quietly. "With his temperament, do you really expect him to say, 'No thanks, I'm not interested'?"

Zemouregal nodded once. "I see."

"There will be no uses of explosive or dangerous magic without my agreement," Bilrach said, ignoring the low-toned conversation. "There will be no digging anywhere that I don't tell you that you can dig. There will be no questioning my judgment. I've been at this for a while and I know what I'm doing. To put it simply, I am in charge. Any disputes, and I will see to it that the disputer is taken care of."

"What is this, an excursion for young students?" Sliske asked. "Why don't you just write out a numbered list of rules and regulations and nail it to the wall. Anyone who disobeys can be soundly spanked."

Bilrach glared stonily at him. "And no disparaging remarks."

Enakhra sighed, suddenly feeling that this was going to be a long and difficult experience for everyone involved. If the desired outcome hadn't been something that she wanted so badly to happen, she would have given the whole thing up for a bad idea right then. Very few good things had come from multiple Mahjarrat trying to work together, particularly when so many of the group's parties disliked so many of the others as much as they did.

"If no one else has any adversities," Azzanadra said, "I would appreciate it if we could move along. We have limited time to work with."

"So long as you all agree to my conditions, I believe I'm ready," Bilrach said. "Does anyone _not_ agree?"

"I thee no problemth with your propothal," Lucien said. "I would apprethiate the thame courtethieth if it were me."

"And since when do we Mahjarrat follow the 'do unto others' rule, cousin?" Zemouregal commented mockingly. "Seems to me you've gone a bit soft and lawful lately."

Lucien glowered. "My power ith greater than you could pothibly imagine."

"Is that your fallback retort?" Zemouregal asked. "It's a bit flimsy, don't you think?"

"DO YOU ALL AGREE?" Bilrach thundered, interrupting the trivial argument.

All five of the other Mahjarrat just nodded.

"Good." He heaved open a large trapdoor in the side of the Daemonheim cliff and gestured into it. "Everyone in, before I change my mind about what I'm certain will turn out to be the largest debacle of the millennia."

* * *

The tunnels were nothing special, in Azzanadra's opinion. They were dark and dank, lit by a sparse amount of torches along the walls, and not particularly well excavated.

_I expected more, with how protective he is of them._

_**You don't believe that this is part of the actual tunnel network, do you?**_

_Um… Yes?_

It was barely thirty seconds later that they came out into what was obviously a much more well cared for tunnel. It was brighter, with more sharply defined corners and smoother walls. There were beams at regular intervals to support was must have been thousands or even millions of tons of rock above them. As they walked, Azzanadra noticed archways leading off into antechambers that contained everything from digging supplies to sleeping quarters.

_Okay, this is a bit more like what I expected._

"In case any of you naïve fools were curious," Bilrach said, "that was just an afterthought tunnel that I dug to get down here without meandering through all of levels of tunnel mazes. It's more direct, and much more efficient, but I haven't bothered to make it strong, sturdy, and pretty like all of these main ones."

_**And the mystery is solved.**_ _**Do you feel enlightened?**_

"Anything that means less walking is fine by me," Sliske said. "Can't really say that I care about tunneling techniques or mechanics, though."

"Maybe you should," Enakhra said. "It's all you're going to be dealing with until we finish this."

"Oh, happy day," Sliske muttered, sounding disgruntled.

"Are you wishing you had stayed with your Barrows?" Zaros asked contemptuously. "I assume that life was simpler there."

Sliske's eyes narrowed. "Don't start."

Zemouregal's eyebrows rose, and he looked between the two of them. "What's this now? You were at the Barrows?"

"You're not hearing it," Sliske snapped. "I don't like you, and I don't think I care to tell you any more about myself than what you can figure out on your own."

But Zemouregal was now wearing a very evil smirk. "You know, I heard that the only permanent occupant of the Barrows was some crazy guy with a pickaxe."

Sliske didn't even look at him.

"That couldn't possibly have been you, could it?"

Sliske just continued walking.

"Fancy that," Zemouregal said, grinning. "You always were a little messed up, but I never would have pegged you as someone who would lose it entirely. What could possibly have happened to trigger that?"

Sliske whirled around, shadows forming dark pools around him. "Shut up," he hissed. "Don't think I won't hurt you."

_This isn't going to end well_.

_**Do you think I should intervene?**_

_Hell, no. I want to see who wins._ Azzanadra hadn't felt this much of a thrill in a while. Conflict and violence were things he did very well with.

"What an interesting reaction," Zemouregal said, making no move to defend himself. "Did I touch a nerve?" A shadowy whip lashed out and coiled itself around Zemouregal's throat, but he just smiled. "Guess I did."

"You know _nothing_ about me," Sliske said, his voice tight and angry. "Don't delve into things that have so little to do with you."

Finally, Zemouregal seemed to decide that it was time for action. A wall of smoke threw itself toward Sliske, pushing him back toward the wall. He was momentarily thrown off balance, and the shadows slipped from around Zemouregal's neck.

"I'll delve into whatever the hell I feel like delving into. How about you don't tell me what to do?"

Sliske's eyes slitted furiously, and the shadows drew back as though preparing to strike. "You'll be–"

"ENOUGH!" Bilrach bellowed, stalking back around a corner. "What did I say about magic?"

_Damn,_ Azzanadra thought. _Things were just about to get interesting._

Sliske and Zemouregal were still glaring at each other, their magic at the ready. Bilrach scowled and stepped between them.

"Put it away," he growled. There was a minute of complete stillness, but then they both obeyed. Bilrach gave them one last look and then walked back up to head the party, Enakhra and Lucien behind him. A moment later, Zemouregal followed them.

"If you ever bring that up again," Sliske told Zaros, "I will murder you in such a slow, painful way that you'll scream for your mother. That's a subject I never want to hear about again, got it?"

He didn't even wait for a reply before he walked ahead to join the rest of the group, leaving Azzanadra wondering if it was really just jibes about his sanity that Sliske didn't want, or if there was maybe an even deeper reason behind his reactions.

* * *

**A/N: So, credit to Alex for the subplot that I'm not going to reveal yet because it would be a bit of a spoiler. I don't want him getting mad at me again for using his ideas without mentioning that they're his, so I'm covering my bases a little bit early here.**

**Reviews are always very nice. Without them, I'd update even less than I do, because what's the point in updating if I don't think anyone's reading? I don't care if you don't have a FanFiction account, I do take anonymous reviews. (You know who you are. =P)**


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N: Damn FFN gave me a weird error when I tried to post this chapter. Luckily, saving the document in a different format seemed to be a get-around, so you still get to enjoy this lovely chapter. Happy reading. =)**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Enakhra was annoyed. After Zemouregal and Sliske's exchange, she now had two unsolved mysteries nagging at her. She was still intensely curious about Azzanadra's sudden change in personality, and now she was wondering what had happened to Sliske to make him react like he had.

"Why can't I ever be curious about people I _like_?" she grumbled to herself. "Damn interesting Zarosians."

"What was that?" Zemouregal asked, coming up behind her. "Have you taken up talking to yourself now, too?"

She glared at him. "Following someone around just to irritate them seems like it would be a waste of time."

"On the contrary," he said, "it's the only real interesting thing to do in this drab hole we're stuck in. But you do realize it's your own fault that I'm annoying, right?"

That was a new one. "I'm afraid I fail to understand your logic. How exactly is your personality my fault?"

"Oh, that's not your fault," he said. "What _is_ your fault is that I've been forced to treat you the way I treat everyone else. We could be on so much better terms with each other, but you remain infuriatingly stubborn."

Enakhra sighed. "I could say the same. Doesn't it get old, going after the same thing over and over again without any results?"

"Like banging my head against a stone wall," he said cheerfully. "Fortunately, I've broken stone walls with my head before, so I'm not out of hope just yet."

"You are the most incorrigible, unrepentant bastard I've ever had the displeasure to associate with," she said. "I hope you have an absolutely horrendous headache from that stone wall."

He just smirked at her. "I think I might be making progress, actually."

Repressing the urge to throw her hands in the air and scream at him, she sped up and hoped that he wasn't feeling persistent enough to follow her. It seemed as though he wasn't.

It was then that she noticed that Sliske didn't seem to be with the rest of the group anymore.

In fact, he seemed to have disappeared entirely.

* * *

The tunnels may have been relatively well-lit as far as tunnels went, but Sliske had been a master of shadows for longer than the majority of Gielinor's most ancient inhabitants had been alive. He knew how to manipulate the slightest little dark spots and make himself practically invisible, and that was just what he had done, because sometimes he didn't feel like being seen.

He knew that the others would take any sign of weakness and file it away for later use against him. Hell, anything he gave them now would probably just be a mark against him when they got back to Ghorrock and started in on the pre-Ritual politics again. Despite anything he may have wished over the years, he didn't really want to die. All of the Mahjarrat had deeply ingrained senses of self-preservation, and he was no exception.

That was why, the moment he began to feel that he was anything less than perfectly stable, he got out of sight in any way available to him. And he planned to stay out of sight until he could get himself under complete control.

Unfortunately, he was having trouble controlling his own mind. Trying not to think about something had a tendency to make you think about it, and he couldn't stop a single name from rising to the front of his mind. Feeling barraged by memories, he repressed the sounds that his throat seemed determined to let out. His cloak of shadows wouldn't prevent anyone from hearing him.

_Damn you, Zemouregal,_ he thought bitterly. _Damn your prying._ It had been centuries since he'd been in a lucid enough state of mind to have this problem, but now he was, and it had taken just two flippant sentences from Zemouregal to bring up memories that Sliske had gone insane trying to forget.

Shadows formed by lack of light may obey his every command, but the shadows of the past were another matter entirely; they held him in a tenacious stranglehold, constricting him as only guilt and misery could.

* * *

"Is this it?" Zemouregal asked, eyeing the solid wall of rock that they had come to.

"That depends," Bilrach replied, "on what you think 'it' is. No, this isn't the Rift."

Zemouregal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I gathered that from the fact that no one knows for sure if it even exists. I meant, is this where we're supposed to start digging or whatever it is we're going to be doing."

"This is merely where I stopped before leaving for Ghorrock," Bilrach said. "If we were to begin digging, I suppose we would probably do it here. However, I've been thinking about this, and it seems to me that we should go about this a different way."

"But how elthe are we going to find the Rift?" Lucien asked. "I thought you thaid that we have to dig it out."

"Well, yes," Bilrach said. "But do you know how long I've been down here already? Centuries. And I haven't found it yet. So if we want to find it in a reasonable amount of time, I think we should use a different method to locate it."

"So what is this 'different method'?" Enakhra asked. "And why haven't you used it before now?"

"Because I don't actually have a different method," Bilrach said. "I was simply saying that we should attempt to come up with one to speed the process up. The less time I have to spend with you all, the happier I'll be."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Zemouregal said. "But honestly, what are you expecting us to do? Hold hands and chant like monks until part of the rock miraculously starts to glow?"

_I wish I had arms right now,_ Azzanadra thought. _Someone really needs to punch him in the face._

_**If you greatly wish to see your fist meet his face, I could no doubt accomplish that.**_

As tempting as that was, Azzanadra knew that starting a brawl would only delay things further. But he could at least keep himself entertained with mental images of what would have happened.

"If we could make the Rift glow," Bilrach said, "I would say hold hands and chant until your head falls off. Unfortunately, I doubt it would actually do anything. And what did I say about disparaging remarks? Is your memory so pathetic that you've already forgotten what you agreed to?"

"I only make it a point to remember things that I think will be useful to me," Zemouregal said. "That didn't make the list."

"Ugh," Enakhra said, rolling her eyes. "How long is this going to continue? I didn't sign up for a century-long irritation fest. Strange as it may sound, I like results."

"There must be something we can do," Zaros said. "The Rift is, if it exists, a significant magical force. We are also a significant magical force, with our powers combined. It seems that there must be some solution to this perplexing problem."

"We're not magical magnets," Zemouregal said. "We can't just…attract the Rift."

"I never suggested that to be the case."

"We could thimply catht our magic around, couldn't we?" Lucien asked. "It would eventually catch thomething, right?"

"NO!" Bilrach thundered. "If you so much as cast one blast in my tunnels, you'll face the full extent of my fury!"

_Which is honestly terrifying,_ Azzanadra thought wryly.

"Oh, will the lot of you just shut up?" a voice asked wearily.

Everyone looked toward the source, and watched Sliske step out of the shadows.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Zemouregal asked, looking a bit bemused. "I thought you'd disappeared."

Sliske ignored him. "Since you all seem somewhat challenged in the intelligence department, it leaves me to do the thinking for you all. Who wants to hear my idea?"

* * *

**A/N: So now you pestering people can get off my back about updating this. Though I'm sure you'll just start pestering for the next chapter. I suppose I don't mind; it certainly motivates me. =)**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**A/N: The next chapter, over a month in coming. Sorry 'bout that. –sheepish smile–**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

"An idea, eh?" Bilrach said. "Fine. Let's hear it."

Sliske nodded once. "As you all know, I am very good at controlling shadows. I'm so good, in fact, that I am the only one among us who has any talent when it comes to accessing the Shadow Realm." Before anyone could protest, he raised his hand to halt them and continued. "I am aware that I'm not the only one who can access it. I simply said that I am the only one who has any _talent_ at doing so."

There was no grumbling at that. They all had to admit that what Sliske said was probably true.

"I don't think I understand where you're going with this," Zemouregal said. "Accessing the Shadow Realm won't get us anywhere. It's not like it's the same as this plane but without the rocks; the Rift won't be there."

"No, it won't," Sliske agreed. "However, the two planes are connected. The Shadow Realm is the shadow of many other planes. Any significant source of magic should bleed into it, and by viewing it, I'll be able to find the trace of the Rift that will lead us in the right direction. We will most likely still be required to dig, but we'll be able to dig more directly. It will be less of a 'wild goose chase', as some people would might put it."

A moment of silence followed his explanation as the rest of the party considered it.

"I don't see a problem with it," Enakhra said, shrugging. "It's leagues better than plan A, which was apparently 'pick a direction and dig until we find a reason to change course'."

Bilrach was nodding slowly. "It seems adequate. It will certainly allow us to be much more precise and efficient."

"So we're all in agreement?" Sliske asked.

There were four yeses and one, "Yeth."

Sliske closed his eyes and began summoning the energy he would need to open a small rip between Gielinor and the Shadow Realm.

* * *

Zamorak was pacing across the clearing, from the tree to the large rock across from it and back again, listening intently to the conversation between the Mahjarrat in the tunnels. When Sliske mentioned the Shadow Realm, a spark of an idea lit in Zamorak's mind. What if…?

"I see that you are still out here," came Saradomin's voice.

Zamorak scowled at the interruption to the formation of his idea. "Yeah. Why do you care?"

"I care because I do not wish for anything drastic to occur without my knowledge," Saradomin replied. "I have come to keep an eye on you."

"That is utterly unnecessary," Zamorak said, irritated.

Saradomin lifted his shoulders slightly. "Perhaps. I am going to do it anyway."

Deciding that ignoring the older god would be the most productive route, Zamorak resumed his pacing and tried to relocate his train of thought.

The Shadow Realm, as Sliske had pointed out, was the shadow of many other planes. It just so happened that because of this, it linked them all together. If you knew how to traverse it, you could feasibly travel between the planes at will.

Zamorak didn't really know how to traverse it.

However, he knew how to access it. It couldn't be that hard to manage; he didn't see any reason why he couldn't just figure it out as he went along.

He stopped pacing and stood solidly, his feet planted firmly. He hadn't accessed the Shadow Realm in a very long time, and if he was going to do it right, he needed to be fully in control of all of his faculties. He took a deep breath and—

"What the devil are you doing now?"

He opened his eyes slowly and turned to face Saradomin. "Shut up. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Concentrate on _what_, pray tell?"

Zamorak huffed in irritation. "On opening the Shadow Realm."

"I was not aware that you were capable of that," Saradomin said, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm a Mahjarrat, aren't I?" Zamorak retorted. "Blood, smoke, ice, _shadow_."

"I dare say that you are," Saradomin agreed, "but you strike me as more of the blood variety."

"I may not specialize in shadow manipulation," Zamorak said. "Doesn't mean I can't use it. Now be quiet."

"I am afraid I won't be quiet until you inform me of your intent." Saradomin walked over to where Zamorak was standing. "What do you stand to gain by opening the Shadow Realm?"

Zamorak sighed. "No one knows for certain if the Rift even exists. If I can use the Shadow Realm to get back to Gielinor, it'll save everyone a whole lot of trouble."

"I do not agree," Saradomin said. "In all actual fact, you were one of the largest causes of trouble in the second and third ages, and I see no reason for you to return now and cause more for the fifth."

"So you think that Zaros returning to Gielinor _won't_ cause trouble?"

"It would cause very much trouble, but there are no expeditions to return him currently."

"Are you going senile, old man?" Zamorak exclaimed. "You said yourself that Zaros could _already be_ in Gielinor! And doesn't it strike you as a little odd that Azzanadra has made this deal with Bill for their gods to hash it out, but hasn't done anything to get his own back? He's just trying to find the Rift with the rest of them! I think Zaros is already there, possibly by possessing Azzanadra like you said, and the sooner I can get back there, the sooner I can stop him from taking everything back."

Saradomin was beginning to look troubled. "In spite of my many reservations against considering anything you may say, I cannot help but agree with some parts of your argument. However, I believe that if something is going to happen, it will happen, and am against opening the Shadow Realm to force an outcome."

"You mean I should just wait for them to find the possibly-nonexistent Rift?" Zamorak shook his head. "No. I won't sit back and let fate run my life for me. If I had done that, I would never have become a god, would I?"

"I often believe that your ascension was never meant to come about," Saradomin said. "Can you not stop meddling for even a moment?"

"I haven't meddled in centuries," Zamorak said. "I think I deserve to at this point."

Saradomin cleared his throat pointedly—a noise that sounded suspiciously like _"Iban"—_but Zamorak ignored him.

Concentrating far harder than Sliske would have had to in order to accomplish the same feat, Zamorak slowly ripped open a small entrance to the Shadow Realm. The view through the gateway was hazy and hard to focus on, difficult to see for more than ten or twenty feet into due to the shadowy shroud that smothered it.

Zamorak had only intended to stick his head through until he had determined whether or not he thought he would be able to control it enough to travel, but the Shadow Realm's will was stronger than his ability to dominate it. He was pulled through, and Saradomin, who had grabbed his arm to stop him, was pulled through right along with him.

Turning, Zamorak watched the opening's edges slide together, the sliver of light coming from the clearing beyond gradually disappearing. He tried to stop it, but he had underestimated his competence at shadow mastery, and his attempt did very little to halt its progress.

He had just screwed himself over in such a way as he hadn't done since he had started the God Wars without considering Guthix's wrath.

"Damn it," he growled.

* * *

In the tunnels of Daemonheim, Sliske had just performed the exact same operation with far more success. Closing the small gap between the planes, he turned back to face the rest of the Mahjarrat.

"I got a reading on an exceedingly powerful source of chaotic magic," he told them. He pointed northwest. "That way, a mile or two in."

Bilrach nodded. "That seems reasonable. There are a few more tunnels that we can take to get closer, but then we're going to have to dig."

"As long as we're actually doing something," Enakhra said, "then I'll be happier than I have been."

_**Progress, at last. If the rest of the endeavor continues in a similar manner to this, perhaps this will actually get done before the end of the century.**_

_Don't count on it._

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this coming Sunday I'm leaving for two weeks. Due to being rather busy when I get back and having to take time to write the next chapter, the next update may very well not show up for a month or more. Please don't hold this against me, as there is very little that I'll be able to do about it. =|**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**A/N: I'm back from my summer excursions. =) Might still be a bit of a lag between updates, but that'll be entirely because I'm either lazy or not quite sure where the next bit is going.**

**But here's chapter eleven, anyway. Enjoy.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

"So we're just supposed to hang around here until Bill rounds up all his little helpers?" Zemouregal asked, clearly put out by the idea. "That's dull."

"Unless you feel like digging the tunnel yourself," Sliske said crossly, "you'll be waiting until the whole thing's done. I suggest you make yourself comfortable."

Lucien frowned. "Tho why are we here?"

Zemouregal smirked. "Because many, many moons ago, Icthlarin–"

"We all have our own reasons for being here, I'm sure," Enakhra interrupted, not wanting to listen to Zemouregal's snark. "I'm here because I wanted to be, Azzanadra's here because he instigated it, Zemouregal's here because he can't resist sticking his nose into things that he doesn't need to be involved in—"

"He's my god too," Zemouregal said mildly.

"You said you were coming before you even knew what it was," Enakhra snapped. "You're just nosy and obnoxious and enjoy tormenting me."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think I came just because of you? That's a bit self-centered."

Her eyes flashed furiously and she walked away. Once she had put a sufficient amount of distance between herself and the group, she sat down grumpily on one of the many crates that were stacked against the wall. She had no idea what she was sitting on, and unless it exploded, she didn't really care.

_The end result will be worth it,_ she told herself. _The end result will be worth it…_

* * *

"What have you _done_?"

Zamorak sighed. Why had this curmudgeon been pulled through as well? Was he really going to be forced to listen to the old man's nagging and ranting until he could find a way out of the Shadow Realm? That sounded very much less than appealing.

"I made a mistake," he said, his jaw tightening as though trying to hold in such an appalling statement. "You didn't have to grab on and come too."

"I was merely attempting to stop you from leaving," Saradomin replied. "I did not expect this result."

"That makes two of us," Zamorak growled, trudging further into the shifting, shadowy environment that surrounded them. He wasn't sure where he was going—having never been to the Shadow Realm before, he didn't exactly have a map in his head—but he had it in his mind that all he had to do was find a portal. There had to be some, right? Weren't there people who had to regularly traverse the Shadow Realm and left doors open?

Well, maybe not. But it seemed like a better idea to follow up on than "stand in one place and hope that something randomly pulls me out".

"So may I assume that you do not actually know what you are doing and that we may be stuck here for an indefinite period?" Saradomin asked.

Zamorak shrugged. "You could. It may or may not be true."

_Think, damn it,_ he thought at himself. _You must know a better way out. How long have you been playing around with shadow magic?_ But "playing around" had been about the extent of it, and it wasn't like he'd ever gone up to Sliske and asked for lessons. Even when they had been on the same general team, they hadn't really gotten along, and Sliske had always been disinclined to give out favors.

Not that any of the Mahjarrat defied that particular personality trait.

"May I also assume that you plan to wander aimlessly until a miracle or similar event occurs?"

Zamorak didn't even bother replying to that. Saradomin knew that he didn't have a plan, and was just enjoying the chance to point out his incompetence. While he would most definitely have been doing the same thing if their roles were reversed, Zamorak had never really been one for putting himself in other peoples' shoes and was becoming increasingly irritated about the whole situation.

_I have to get out of here. Soon._

* * *

Conversation was mostly nonexistent between the Mahjarrat waiting in the Daemonheim tunnels, but not between the god and his current vessel. Not that anyone but the two conversing knew that.

_**I had not anticipated quite so much inaction. It is making me surprisingly frustrated.**_

Frustrated enough to seek time-passing conversation? Well. _I don't get it. Why is that surprising?_

_**My patience is vast, Azzanadra. I do not become frustrated by such inconsequential things as small periods of waiting.**_

Azzanadra had always had a relatively small attention span, considering how long he'd been around, so he was actually having a rather hard time imagining 'being patient'. _Guess it's not as vast as you thought._

_**Do not be ridiculous. Perhaps I merely have more of a reason to be impatient about this particular subject than others that I have encountered.**_

_Could be._ Personally, Azzanadra thought that it was just more of the personality twisting that they had already been experiencing.

_**I heard that.**_ Of course he had. _**That thought may have some merit, though. I have been considering the fact that at some point I must find some other way to traverse this plane.**_

_I… What?_

_**While reestablishing myself as a great power in Gielinor would be possible trapped as I am here, it would be difficult and frankly rather demeaning.**_

…Was that a roundabout way of saying "give Azzanadra his body back"? Despite the somewhat insulting way the thought had been presented, Azzanadra was momentarily stunned. Whether or not he would admit it to himself, some deep part of him had started thinking of himself as a lost cause. Doomed to be a thought in the back of someone else's mind forever.

_**Doomed to be a pessimist, perhaps.**_

All of the Mahjarrat suddenly straightened or stood from whatever position they'd been lounging in as Bilrach came back up the tunnel.

"Is it done?" Zemouregal asked. "Can we stop this abominable waiting around?"

Bilrach gave him a disparaging look. "Are you asking if the tunnel is done being dug? Do have any notion of how resistant _solid_ _rock_ is?"

Zemouregal glowered.

"I've set the diggers on the job," Bilrach said. "I just came back to alert you of that. I'll now be going back to supervise. Enjoy the wait."

He turned and headed back down the way he'd come.

Zemouregal growled and leaned back against the tunnel wall, arms crossed. "This is so goddamn _boring._"

Sliske, who was standing slightly apart from the others coiling shadowy wisps vaguely around his arm, just rolled his eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Review, review, review. (Well, not really. FFN only lets you submit one signed review per chapter, so you wouldn't be able to "review, review, review". But you know what I mean.)**

**I'll try to get the next chapter up soonish. =)  
**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: Warning: This chapter will not be focused on the main plot of the story, instead focusing on subplots. I'm not saying don't read it, obviously, but please don't be mad because it's not moving the story that much.**

**Also, who else thinks that it's a little unreal that ROTM **_**finally**_** came out? Been waiting so long, I heard that it was coming and found it rather hard to make myself believe it. But it came. I had a few problems with it, but it was awesome all the same. (Sliske is more than just a name and a mystery now. =] Bilrach, well… He's another story… -sigh-)**

**Anyway, as this story does not follow ROTM, it is no longer even remotely canon. So dismiss anything from that when reading the rest of this fic, please. Thank you.**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

Sleep was necessary. All of the Mahjarrat had gone a little too long without it and were verging on falling over where they stood, or at the very least losing a bit of their coherency.

The bunks used by Bilrach's slaves, well… Enakhra would have liked to believe that those were less necessary, but they were the only option, aside from sleeping on the tunnel floor.

It was lucky that the bunk room they were looking at was large and had a great many bunks in it, because it meant that none of them would be forced to sleep within twenty feet of one of the others. Even with that consolation, Enakhra was still wary of falling asleep around the other Mahjarrat. She didn't trust a single one of them, and making herself vulnerable to them wasn't a pleasing thought. She took very little comfort in the knowledge that they all felt the exact same way about the situation.

"Okay, look," she said. "None of us are currently in a position where killing anyone else will help us."

"Are you sure?" Zemouregal asked, his demeanor surprisingly serious. "You seem like you might be eager to get rid of me."

"Now who's self-centered?" she countered. "Anyway, that may be true, but I plan to sleep. I propose we call a truce for now."

"We have done that already, have we not?" Azzanadra asked. "Merely by joining this excursion, it seems to me that a truce was set in place."

"He has a point," Sliske said. "We're already managing to be in the same vicinity as each other and not try anything. This isn't really that much different."

"It is and you know it," Enakhra said. "But if we're all willing to agree, then that's fine. I'll go try to get some sleep."

She knew that if she had been any more awake, she would never have trusted them. Lack of sleep has a tendency to affect judgment, however, and she had stopped caring just enough to let the dice fall where they would.

She made her way over to a bunk in the far corner and settled down to hopefully renew her energy enough to be paranoid again.

* * *

"_Enakhra."_

_She glanced around. She was in her temple, a place she had always been mostly alone. But obviously she wasn't alone at the moment, unless the walls had learned to speak._

_It wasn't the walls. Zamorak had just stepped into the room._

"_What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously._

_He shrugged. "You built me this temple, I figured I might as well check it out."_

"_Really?"_

"_No," a new voice said. "He's lying. He doesn't care."_

_She turned to see Zemouregal standing behind her, his arms crossed._

"_How would you know that?" she asked him angrily._

"_When has he ever cared?" He let her think for a moment, but as soon as she opened her mouth to reply, he interrupted her. "He never has. But I do."_

"_I don't care if you care!"_

"_Do you care if _I_ care?"_

_Enakhra whipped around, her eyes widening in astonishment as she saw who had just entered the room._

"_Bill?" she exclaimed. Were all of the Mahjarrat going to invade the privacy of her temple? "Why the hell would _you_ care?"_

_She was really starting to hate the word "care"._

_She looked back at Zemouregal, who was now glaring irately at Bilrach. Then she looked at Zamorak. He was looking between Zemouregal and Bilrach, an amused puzzlement in his eyes._

_He saw her looking at him and grinned. "Looks like you've got enough on your plate," he said, stepping slowly backward into the shadows._

Enakhra woke abruptly.

What the hell had _that _been about?

* * *

_Please go to sleep._

_**Why? I do not require sleep to function.**_

_No, but I do._

_**I do not see how that affects me.**_

Azzanadra was getting a little annoyed. He had been trying to make Zaros go to sleep for almost fifteen minutes, and the god wouldn't do it.

_Okay, look. Your mind may not need sleep, but my body does. If you don't let it rest, it's going to collapse on you._

_**So you are not as invulnerable as you would have people believe.**_

Azzanadra would greatly have liked to throw his arms up in exasperation at that moment. _Everyone needs sleep! You just have to do it when your enemies can't get to you._

_**I do not need sleep.**_

He wasn't really sure if he believed that, but he wasn't going to say so. _You do now._

_**Fine, but if your body is brutally murdered while I go into an unnecessary state of unconsciousness, I shall not be the one to blame.**_

_I'll remember that._

* * *

_It was the third age, the God Wars were raging, and Sliske was running across a battlefield, shrouded in shadows so that he wouldn't be stopped by enemy troops. Something was wrong, he could feel it. The sense that he had of the other Mahjarrats' lives was fluctuating strangely, and he couldn't tell who was the cause._

_He was terrified that when he got to his destination, he was going to discover who it was._

_He ran on, trying not to let himself think too hard about anything. As soon as he started thinking, he started wondering why he had left, why he hadn't headed back sooner, why he hadn't…_

"_Stop it," he muttered. "You're not helping yourself."_

_A hobgoblin that he was passing looked up, surprised by the disembodied voice, and was stabbed in the chest. Before the unfortunate soldier even had time to die, Sliske was a hundred yards away. Still running, still trying not to think, still failing to keep his head clear of those self-damning thoughts._

_He was almost there. He would find out in a moment. He would—_

_The fluctuations stopped. His sense was clear again, and there was one life missing._

_That was the moment when Sliske's mind broke irreparably._

Sliske sat bolt upright. He was shaking, his entire being shying away from the moments it had just relived.

_No,_ he thought. _Not again. Never. Again._

He didn't go back to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: So who else thought that Azzanadra looked like Batman in ROTM? Anyone? Because the helmet similarity seriously disturbed me and Alex.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: So my first order of business is of course to apologize for the hugely long wait. I have multiple excuses, involving my parents' divorce, NaNoWriMo, and the increasing hectic-ness of my life, but I still feel very bad about it.**

**Second order of business is to my readers for some excellent reviews. ****Darkfire****, your comment about Zemouregal's genes made me laugh my ass off. Thanks for that. ****Tex****, your whole review made me laugh. Everyone else, thanks for the reviews. They stop me from giving up on writing it altogether.**

**Okay, you can read the chapter now. =)**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

When Azzanadra woke up, he blinked slowly, feeling unusually disoriented. Where was he?

He sat up and took in the cave around him, which was filled with bunk beds and sleeping Mahjarrat. Well, mostly sleeping Mahjarrat, but Sliske didn't make any sign that he had noticed Azzanadra.

Right. Daemonheim. Looking for the Rift.

And with those thoughts, Azzanadra realized exactly why he was so disoriented.

That realization brought a sudden rush of excited adrenaline, and he was on his feet and heading for the tunnel outside before his brain had time to catch up. He didn't know what he was going to do, but hopefully it was going to be violent.

He jogged down the tunnel, fighting back a full-out sprint. He had the urge to do things that he would have been appalled by a month earlier. Really, who in their right mind runs down a tunnel, jumps and punches the ceiling, and then does a cartwheel? Honestly, he wasn't even sure he knew _how_ to do a cartwheel.

But the biggest urge was to kill something, and that one he didn't plan to fight. He just needed to find something killable.

Unfortunately for him, the first something he encountered happened to be Bilrach. Killable? Yes. Easily killable? Not so much.

He screeched to a halt, and Bilrach looked at him suspiciously.

"Azzanadra," he greeted, his eyes narrowed. "I'll have you know that there is a reason I left all of you back there."

"Oh," Azzanadra replied, trying not to show how annoyed he was that Bilrach had intercepted him. "Right. Yeah. I was just… Looking for the bathroom?"

Bilrach was not amused. He pointed angrily back up the tunnel. "Go."

Unless he wanted to get into a sparring match with Bilrach—which part of him did, but the rest of him knew enough not to—Azzanadra didn't have much of a choice. Sighing inwardly, he turned and headed back up the tunnel toward the others.

Now that his action had been interrupted, thought was the only alternative. As indignant as the comment had made him, Zaros had kind of been right; he had never made thinking a great habit. But his time in the back of his own mind had made him realize that maybe he should.

So as he walked, he considered. It really didn't make sense that he suddenly had control of his body again. Where was Zaros? He focused for a moment, and realized that he could actually sense the god. Okay…

"Azzanadra!" Bilrach barked. "Don't even try that one."

Azzanadra looked up and saw that Bilrach was at least twenty feet ahead of him. He had been so busy thinking and focusing that he had stopped walking.

So he wasn't very good at multi-tasking.

"Sorry, Bill," he said, catching up. "Not trying anything, I swear. Just preoccupied."

Bilrach just grunted and kept walking.

* * *

Enakhra was the second to last of the Mahjarrat to wake up, which made her less than happy. She didn't like the thought that the others could have been saying or doing anything while she wasn't present.

Of course, Sliske was mostly unresponsive and Azzanadra wasn't there, so Zemouregal was the only potential problem.

That was bad enough.

There were footsteps coming up the tunnel. She quickly stood up, on guard for whatever was coming. She assumed that it was just Bilrach and maybe Azzanadra, but one could never be too careful.

When Bilrach and Azzanadra appeared at the mouth of the cave, she still didn't lower her guard. Again, one could never be too careful.

Bilrach pointed into the cave. "Go stand with your fellow reprobates so that I can deliver the news."

"They're not my fellow anything," Azzanadra grumbled, but he walked into the cave and turned around to face Bilrach all the same.

"I hate to break it to you," Zemouregal said, "but we're all the same race. There's no denying that."

"That doesn't mean there's any sort of fellow… ness."

"Fellowship, I think you mean," Zemouregal corrected arrogantly. "Moron."

Azzanadra's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Don't call me names, smartass."

There was something very wrong with the situation, and having been paying very close attention for a while, Enakhra knew exactly what it was. This was proof that she wasn't just, as Zemouregal had put it, "seeing conspiracy theories around every corner". It was time to do something about it.

"Azzanadra," she said.

He stopped his devolving exchange with Zemouregal mid-insult and turned to look at her. "What?"

"Who were you yesterday?"

Sudden silence, broken only by Lucien's vague snuffle-snoring from the far corner. Azzanadra looked stricken.

"I… uh… What?" he asked dumbly.

"You know what I said," she told him, "and you know exactly what I meant. Yesterday, nothing about you was right. I noticed that, but thought that maybe you had gone through some metamorphosis since I had last seen you. But now, you're you again, so who were you yesterday?"

"Enakhra," Zemouregal said slowly, "this sounds crazy."

"Are you saying you can't see it?" she exclaimed. "Yesterday he was speaking like some scholar, big words galore, and now he can't even say 'fellowship'? That makes no sense! He was condescending and imperious and formal, and now he's hostile and taking part in name-calling matches. Something has changed." She turned back to Azzanadra. "Who. The hell. Were. You?"

He stared at her, guilt written all over his face. She was right, she knew. Now she just wanted answers about the who, what, when, where, why, and how.

"He was Zaros." They all looked at Sliske, who had stood up from his bunk. "Weren't you?"

Azzanadra didn't reply, but he didn't need to. His expression told them all what his answer would have been.

"You were _Zaros_?" Bilrach yelled incredulously. "I made a deal with _Zaros_?"

"I don't get how that's different that making one with a Zarosian," Azzanadra muttered.

That just caused Bilrach to splutter angrily. He seemed to be attempting to make a point, but he was speaking the language of incredibly flustered and angry people, and none of the other Mahjarrat could understand him.

Enakhra turned smugly to Zemouregal. "See? I'm not insane."

He looked back at her with a vague sort of amusement. "I never actually said you were."

Hadn't he? Maybe he had just implied it. He was good at that.

"Whatever," she said, turning away again. "Maybe you'll listen next time I tell you that something isn't right."

"Maybe," he agreed, "but where's the fun in that?"

"You're incorrigible," she snapped, already annoyed with him again.

"That's my best quality," he said, smirking.

Her brain made a sentence that sounded sort of like "blargle flargle gnerr", and she decided that it was time to stop talking to Zemouregal. He wasn't good for her sanity.

Bilrach seemed to have stopped raving, so Enakhra turned her attention to him. This seemed to displease Zemouregal, because he scowled, crossed his arms, and glared at the master demon summoner. Enakhra ignored his behavior.

"Bill," she said, "didn't you have news?"

"Yes," he replied, reluctantly leaving the Zaros topic behind, along with the majority of his anger. "We arrived at the Rift."

"Thank the gods," Zemouregal said. "No more blasted waiting."

"I would hold in your excitement for now," Bilrach said. "That wasn't all of the news."

Zemouregal returned to scowling and glaring. "Of course it wasn't. Please, tell us how our current existences are about to become worse."

"The Rift isn't there."

The second bomb-drop of the morning was followed by a very similar silence to that of the first one. Oddly, it was broken by the same person.

"I thee that you are all gathered. Did I mith thomething important?"

No one could even be bothered to reply to him.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this is the first time I've written anything with a pencil in a notebook and then typed it into Word after, so I don't know if that changed the feel of the chapter or not. I'd love opinions on that.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: I am aware that it has been a very, very long time since my last update, and I am quite sorry. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to say it, updates may be a bit further apart than they were before. No worries, though, I'm not giving up on it. At least, I'm not giving up on it as long as none of my lovely reviewers give up on me. =]  
**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Gah," Zamorak said, after far too much pointless wandering around the Shadow Realm. "I want to know what's going on!"

"I suppose you're referring to the events in Daemonheim?" Saradomin asked wearily. Zamorak looked over his shoulder and saw that the old man seemed to be braiding his beard as he walked.

"Yes," he said, turning back to watch where he was walking. "I feel blind and… uninformed."

There was a bit of a pause, then Saradomin replied, "Perhaps you have become too reliant upon the omniscience granted to you."

Zamorak scoffed. "Like you haven't. You spend more time watching Gielinor than I do." He paused. "Did." Another pause. "Spent… Oh, to hell with it. I need to get out of here."

He glared into the shifting fog before him, looking for something, anything, that could indicate some relief from the shadows. He didn't see anything, until…

"Hey, is that Varrock?"

"Very possibly," Saradomin said. "It is a well populated city with much magic being performed each day. It is logical that it might bleed into the Shadow Realm."

"I didn't really need the details," Zamorak muttered, changing course to head for the city.

"You have no interest in the world around you."

"I'm interested in what the world _is_," Zamorak replied. "Not what it means or how it got that way."

"Understanding your surroundings can be a great boon," Saradomin said.

"Yeah, yeah," Zamorak said, rolling his eyes. "Knowledge is power and all that blather."

Saradomin huffed and didn't reply.

The Shadow Realm version of Varrock turned out to be rather odd. Not all of the buildings were there, and the ones that were seemed to be made out of a dark gray fog, rather like everything else they had encountered. If Zamorak had been more susceptible to that kind of thing, it might have given him chills.

"So I guess people don't 'bleed into the Shadow Realm', then," Zamorak commented, noting the lack of movement in the landscape around them.

"Sentient beings may only exist in one place at a time, as one's consciousness cannot be so easily split." Saradomin paused. "But you did not care for an explanation, did you?"

Zamorak, who had stopped paying attention pretty much as soon as the other god had started speaking, didn't reply.

Saradomin sighed.

* * *

Following the rather unpleasant piece of news, all of the Mahjarrat turned to Sliske.

"Get a bit confused, did you?" Zemouregal asked snidely. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted someone who's been wandering around in a swamp for a few too many centuries."

Sliske's expression was murderous. "That is entirely irrelevant, and if you felt like thinking back, you would realize that I never actually said that it was the Rift."

"You mean you knew all along that it wasn't?" Enakhra asked. She had honestly been waiting for something like that to happen. The Mahjarrat deceived each other, that was just the way it worked.

"No, of course I didn't," Sliske snapped. "I sensed powerful chaotic magic, I said to go that way. It's not my fault that it turned out to not be what we thought it was."

Even though what he said made sense, Enakhra still wasn't sure she believed him. He didn't seem like he was lying, but they didn't all refer to him as Sliske the Serpent-Tongued without reason. "I think you're manipulating all of us," she said, crossing her arms.

"Now is not the time for your paranoia, Enakhra," Bilrach said, looking rather like he was struggling very hard to remain calm. "Sliske, check again. I want to know if the magic you sensed is still there. Azzanadra, explain this whole… _Zaros_ situation." He spat out Zaros's name with a mixture of reluctance and distaste, clearly put off by having to say it.

Sliske didn't look particularly happy about following Bilrach's orders, but apparently he had no argument for why he shouldn't. He headed to the other side of the room to open the Shadow Realm while the rest of them turned their attention to Azzanadra.

"Can thomeone pleathe tell me what'th going on?" Lucien asked.

He was again ignored.

"When did you become… him?" Bilrach demanded.

Azzanadra looked acutely uncomfortable. "I don't think he would want me to tell you anything."

Bilrach's face twitched.

"You thould tell him anyway," Lucien said, looking quite frightened. "Tharoth ithn't here, ith he?"

"He's not right now," Azzanadra agreed. "He'll be back, though, and he'll know what I did."

"What, he can read your mind?" Zemouregal asked skeptically.

Azzanadra glowered. "He's _in_ my mind, dumbass."

"So basically," Enakhra said, "he's possessing you."

"I guess," Azzanadra said, frowning. "Wouldn't be the way I'd describe it."

Enakhra raised an eyebrow at that. "How _would_ you describe it?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, still frowning. She smiled smugly.

"Never mind that," Bilrach snapped. "If he was possessing you, why isn't he now? What made him leave?"

"I don't think he left," Azzanadra replied. "I think he… fell asleep."

They all stared at him incredulously.

"So you're saying," Zemouregal said slowly, "that your lord and master, the mighty Zaros, one of the most powerful beings of the early ages, lost control of you because he couldn't stay awake?" He laughed. "That's too much."

Azzanadra glared at him. "He didn't just fall asleep. I told him that my body would collapse on him if he didn't let it rest."

"Oh, that's even better," Zemouregal said, his grin widening. "Brought down by his faithful servant. What a tragedy."

"I didn't know this would happen!" Azzanadra exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Exactly." Zemouregal seemed to be getting far too much amusement out of the situation. Though Enakhra had to admit that even she found Azzanadra's predicament a bit entertaining. "Your idiocy has finally taken its toll on Zaros's well-laid plans. How do you think he's going to react to that?"

Azzanadra sat down abruptly on the bed behind him. There was a growing look of fearful comprehension on his face that made Enakhra wonder how much he had actually thought about his new situation. She was willing to bet that he hadn't considered much beyond the fact that he was in control of himself again. He was loyal to an extent that most people would scoff at, but he was also very dependent on the physical aspect of his being. Imagining how he must have felt, trapped like that… For the first time in her life, Enakhra found herself feeling the tiniest bit of sympathy for him.

That wasn't going to keep her from enjoying his torment just a bit, though.

"Why are you looking at him like that?" Zemouregal asked her in an undertone, sounding annoyed.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like you're… not his enemy."

"I'm not," she snapped. "Don't be stupid. What's it to you, anyway?"

He looked at her like he couldn't believe she was asking him that.

"Senntisten," Sliske announced.

They all turned to look at him, startled by his sudden reappearance.

"What?" Bilrach asked.

"The magic I sensed before," Sliske explained in an exasperated tone, "has moved. It's near Senntisten."

"Senntisten doesn't exist anymore," Zemouregal pointed out.

Sliske sighed. "That has no effect whatsoever on the location. Would you have preferred it if I said, 'the ruins of Senntisten'?"

"So… it's not the Rift," Bilrach said tightly.

"It could be," Sliske replied. "You don't actually know what the Rift is, do you? Perhaps it's mobile."

"Of course it's not mobile!" Bilrach shouted. "Don't you think I would—" He broke off. After a rather long pause, he said shortly, "I suppose it is possible that the Rift is mobile."

The others all made concerted efforts not to laugh. Laughing at Bilrach could be very bad for your health.

"I guess we're going to the ruins of Senntisten, then," Zemouregal said.

* * *

**A/N: So who wants to give me a great birthday present in the form of a review? Today's not my birthday, but it was very recent, so I feel that it's not an outlandish thing to ask for. You can welcome me into my seventeenth year of life and welcome Shadows into 2012 at the same time. =] And you could comment on the chapter as well, if you really wanted to.  
**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N: Wow. It's August, and this is only my second update this year. -hangs head in shame- I'm sorry.**

**So if anyone still cares, here's the next chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

All of the Mahjarrat had the ability to teleport to Senntisten, but Bilrach, paranoid as he was, had made it impossible to teleport into or out of Daemonheim. They were forced to walk all the way back to the surface, all the while mired in a rather awkward silence.

Azzanadra barely noticed the tense atmosphere. He was much too busy being terrified of what Zaros was going to say when he woke up again.

Yes, Zemouregal had just been trying to get a rise out of him, but everything the pest had said had been entirely accurate. No matter how much Azzanadra tried to insist to himself that it had been a complete accident, he had inadvertently caused Zaros to lose control.

Was that really such a bad thing, though? It had allowed Azzanadra to stretch his legs, and maybe save what was left of his sanity. When Zaros woke up, he could take back over and all would be well.

Of course, Azzanadra had totally blown his god's cover and possibly ruined all of his plans.

"Azzanadra!" Bilrach barked. "_What_ are you trying to pull?"

Azzanadra looked up to see all of the others staring back at him from a significantly farther distance up the tunnel, some in curiosity and some with their eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Damn it. He had stopped walking again.

"Nothing, Bill," he said, wondering what could possibly be wrong with him that he couldn't walk and think at the same time.

Bilrach scowled, obviously skeptical, but apparently decided not to pursue the matter. "Well, keep up. I'm not coming back to get you, and I wouldn't put too much on your chances of finding your way out by yourself."

"I'm sure we all feel suitably threatened," Zemouregal said dryly. "Can we keep moving?"

Azzanadra saw Enakhra roll her eyes. What was her problem? Zemouregal had always made snide comments; why would she still care?

But wondering about that would make him start thinking again, and he really didn't want to get another scolding from Bilrach.

* * *

Senntisten. Enakhra hadn't been there in… Well, she actually couldn't remember exactly when the last time had been. She really had no reason to visit a purely Zarosian location.

Except now she did. If she was being honest, the place wasn't a complete dump. The digsite aboveground was less than inviting, but when Azzanadra led them down to the temple he had restored, she was forced to quash a traitorous little bit of astonishment. The blundering buffoon had managed to do something right after all.

Although… what was with the lava? _That_ was a waste of magic.

"So it's nice, right?" Azzanadra asked. He was looking at Sliske—the only other Zarosian there to appreciate it—but he seemed to be addressing the whole group and Enakhra found that irksome. One success in a pointless existence did _not_ give one the right to swagger and boast like an overblown gnome.

"It's transcendent," Sliske replied unenthusiastically, barely glancing around before walking away from the group and staring blankly at a wall.

She assumed he was opening the Shadow Realm again, but she really wouldn't have been surprised if he was just doing exactly what he seemed to be.

Azzanadra frowned. "Oh, come on. Months of work for a reaction like that?"

"I think it'th amathing," Lucien said, and Enakhra couldn't tell if he was indulging Azzanadra or if he actually felt the need to comment.

"Thanks," Azzanadra replied, although even he couldn't look completely pleased with a compliment from Lucien.

"I think it's horrific," Zemouregal said distastefully. "It looks like Zaros threw up all over the place."

Azzanadra's expression was so appalled that Enakhra almost laughed.

"Such crude language will not be tolerated in this almighty place of worship, got it?" he said hotly. "Just because your god's sense of style is…"

Enakhra didn't get to hear the rest, because Zemouregal decided to lean over and share his infinite wisdom with her.

"Have you ever noticed that when he's defending Zaros, he talks just like him?"

"Yes," she replied shortly. "Though I suppose it is more obvious now, considering."

A slow smile spread over Zemouregal's face, and Enakhra realized that she had kind of just _agreed with him_.

"Not that it matters," she added quickly, feeling disturbingly off balance.

The smile remained.

_Damn it!_

"Hey, where did Thlithke go?" Lucien asked suddenly.

They all stopped and looked over to where Sliske had been standing. He wasn't there.

"Sliske!" Bilrach bellowed angrily.

The shout echoed loudly around the cavern and the rest of the Mahjarrat all winced and turned to glare at Bilrach. He showed no sign of remorse for his assault on their ears, even though it hadn't accomplished anything.

When the others needed him most, Sliske had vanished… again.

* * *

The chaotic magic was different this time. It was stronger, because it was closer, and now it seemed almost like it was connected to something else—inextricably linked to something much more alive.

Sliske decided that it only made sense to go investigate.

He closed the doorway to Gielinor behind himself and set off across the foggy, shifting landscape, following the source of the magic. It was definitely moving, and after a short while, he decided that it was almost going in circles. Odd, meandering circles, reminiscent of someone who had no idea where they were going.

The closer he got to the source, the more he started to think that something was a bit off. Particularly once he realized that what he was following seemed to have turned around and was now actually heading toward him.

Acting on a hunch, he reluctantly reconnected with a sense that he had refused to use since he had felt that horrible wrenching feeling during the God Wars.

There it was. Exactly what he had previously thought should be impossible. They hadn't been chasing the Rift after all. They had been chasing another Mahjarrat. And not just any Mahjarrat either.

A figure slowly began to form among the shadows ahead. Sliske watched apprehensively, still trying to figure out what this new information was going to mean.

"Hey, Sliske," Zamorak called as his outline became clear. "Fancy meeting you here."

This was exactly what they had been searching for, in a way, and yet Sliske couldn't help but think that they were about to bear witness to a catastrophe, the likes of which hadn't been seen for centuries.

* * *

**A/N: I'm too ashamed of myself to even ask for reviews.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N: I've had all but the last few paragraphs of this chapter done for about a month now. Sorry it took me so long to finally complete it.**

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews I got on the last chapter. Considering how long it had been since I had updated, I expected a meager amount of feedback at best. I was blown away when I ended up getting more reviews than I have on any chapter yet. You people rock. :]**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

There was nothing they could do except wait to see if Sliske was going to come back. Bilrach began pacing back and forth across the entrance to the temple, muttering angrily to himself. Azzanadra caught the words "screw him" and "trekking across half the damned continent" and assumed it was some sort of indignant rant.

Enakhra and Zemouregal were over to the side of the room and appeared to be having some kind of argument—again—and Lucien seemed to be inspecting the alter, for some reason. As Azzanadra watched, he licked his finger, stuck it on the altar's symbol, then pulled his hand back sharply, frowning.

What the hell was he doing?

Azzanadra was about to go tell him off—there were delicate magicks woven through that altar, thank you very much—when he suddenly felt a strange sensation in the back of his mind.

_Oh no, _he thought, fear and disappointment overwhelming him. He recognized the feeling immediately. _Goodbye, freedom._

An odd, groggy sort of feeling crept over him, and all his limbs got a bad case of pins and needles. Then, without much warning at all, his entire body became numb and unresponsive, and his consciousness was crowded into the corner by one much larger.

_**What happened? Where am I?**_

Such normal questions for such an abnormal situation. _Uh, well…_

_**Is this Senntisten?**_

_Well, see…_

_**I cannot imagine any possible situation in which I would find myself transported from Daemonheim to Senntisten without my knowledge.**_

Azzanadra got the feeling that Zaros wasn't listening to him at all.

"Azzanadra?"

He tried to look toward Enakhra's voice, realizing a split-second later that he couldn't. Damn.

_**What would make you think that you might suddenly possess some control?**_

_Can you just answer Enakhra before she gets suspicious?_

_**I suppose that would be prudent.**_

"Yes, Enakhra?"

Enakhra's eyes narrowed. "Is everything okay?"

Azzanadra couldn't help but find that amusing. She had never asked about his well-being before, even back when they had been on the same side. He supposed it only made sense that the first time would be based on some form of suspicion.

"What would cause you to ask me that? Do I somehow appear to be less than perfectly sound?"

Enakhra's expression said "knew it", but all she actually said was, "No, sorry." Then she turned her attention back to Zemouregal.

* * *

"Zaros is back," she said quietly.

The look in Zemouregal's eyes implied that this was something he was rather looking forward to, and a small smirk found its way onto his face. "I see that. Looks like things are going to get interesting."

* * *

"Okay, so before you try to kill me or anything," Zamorak said, "you should know that I'm not looking for a fight and all I really want right now is to get out of here."

"How convenient, then, that I'm only here to retrieve you," Sliske replied. Then he frowned as he noticed that another figure was forming out of the shadows behind Zamorak. What the…?

"I realize that you find my explanations dull, Zamorak, but there is no reason to leave me behind like that…" The speaker trailed off as he noticed the extra person. "I see that we are no longer lost and alone."

Sliske looked incredulously at the newcomer. "Alright, it's one thing for him to ask me to attempt a retrieval of our greatest enemy, but Saradomin? That's a bit too much."

"Leave him behind, then," Zamorak suggested. "You said you were here to get me, so let's go."

"It is entirely your fault that I am here in the first place," Saradomin said accusingly. "Leaving me behind would be wholly immoral."

"One," Zamorak said, "you think I care? Two, I didn't tell you to try to stop me. It's entirely _your_ fault that you're here."

Sliske sighed. He hadn't anticipated any of this, and it was getting on his nerves. Without saying anything, he turned and began to walk back to Senntisten. No one had told him that he was required to argue with Zamorak, and he knew that the god would follow him. He figured that Saradomin would tag along as well, but he really couldn't be bothered to care about that. Let someone else deal with him.

The walk back consisted mostly of Saradomin attempting to chat the ears off of two people who were clearly not listening. Two-thirds of the way there, Zamorak must have gotten tired of the noise, because he moved up to walk with Sliske.

"So why were you sent to retrieve me?" he asked. "How did anyone even know I was here?"

"No one did," Sliske replied, not particularly thrilled at being forced into conversation. "I thought that you were the Rift."

"Because of the powerful chaotic signature?"

Sliske nodded.

Zamorak grinned. "Well, it's great to know that I can be mistaken for an incredibly old and extremely powerful magical entity, but what about that handy little sense of other Mahjarrats' life forces?"

Sliske said nothing. Divulging any weakness to your enemies was always a bad idea.

"Well, I see you haven't changed much," Zamorak said after the silence had stretched on long enough that it was clear Sliske wasn't going to speak. "You're still a terrible conversationalist."

"And you still ask too many questions," Sliske said. In an attempt to shut Zamorak up, he made a play based on the god's ignorance. "Now be quiet. There are things in this area of the Shadow Realm that don't take kindly to being woken up."

The ridiculousness that Sliske felt at saying something so silly was completely worth the expression on Zamorak's face. After a moment, he seemed to realize that it was a trick, but the trick had effectively ended Saradomin's chatter. He apparently decided that the pros were worth the cons, and with a shrug, he carried on in silence.

Once they reached the area that would translate to Senntisten back in Gielinor, Sliske stopped and turned to Zamorak.

"Before we go through," he said, "I need to know why you got stuck here in the first place. If there is any possibility of it messing with my work, then I will have to leave you here."

"Nope," Zamorak said quickly. "No chance of that. It's all good."

"I would prefer to judge that for myself. What was the reason?"

"I'm telling you, it's fine."

Sliske's jaw tightened. "Zamorak, I promise you that I am not bluffing. If you continue to withhold this information, I will leave your sorry ass here to wander around indefinitely."

"Oh, just tell him!" Saradomin exclaimed. "Your pride will get you nowhere in this situation, and I would appreciate not being trapped here again due to your foolishness."

Zamorak glowered. "I simply misjudged my abilities. Can we go now?"

Sliske resisted the urge to gloat. "Yes, I believe that your incompetence will in no way interfere with my proficiency."

Zamorak scowled. "Just open the damn portal."

With much more ease and mastery than Zamorak had exhibited previously, Sliske did so.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah… So I'll probably continue to eke out chapters at the pace of a turtle, but bear with me and I promise you'll see this story completed.**

**Thanks again for everyone's support. See you… er, sometime.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N: My turtle is not on a skateboard, nor does it have a jetpack (reviewers, you're such fun :] ), but it is moving.**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

Enakhra was fairly certain that Bilrach was about two growls of frustration away from giving the whole enterprise up and teleporting back to Daemonheim. As far as her own frustration went, she was keeping most of it at bay with the almost-certain knowledge that Sliske was just in the Shadow Realm and would be back as soon as he had figured out whatever it was that he needed to. He was sly, but she was sure he wouldn't leave this endeavor, especially now that they knew who had really been behind the plot all along.

A small part of her was tempted to leave due to a wholly different frustration, however — Zemouregal seemed determined to keep her engaged in some kind of conversation. An even smaller part of her admitted that she had moved far enough through hating his company that she had popped out the other side and was actually starting to enjoy it, and that mostly she was just annoyed on principle. That very small part of her was quickly gagged, bound, and put in a dark corner infested with spiders.

When a shadowy rip opened in the space at the center of the temple, Bilrach swore in shock, Lucien stumbled backward and tripped over the altar, and Zemouregal's eyebrows rose. Enakhra wasn't surprised, as she had been expecting it for a little while, and Azzanadra — Zaros, she reminded herself — simply looked mildly pleased that things were progressing again.

Enakhra watched with little interest as Sliske stepped out of the portal, but she felt shock course through her entire body when someone stepped out behind him.

Some _warning_ might have been nice!

She propped herself against the wall behind her, feeling dizzy.

For once, Enakhra was too absorbed in her own reaction to notice anyone else's. All of her attention had been bent toward one person, giving her a strange sort of tunnel vision that she was very unaccustomed to.

She closed her eyes, trying to regain some composure and objectivity. _You knew this was coming,_ she told herself. _So what if the moment arrived slightly sooner than you expected? Get over it._

She took a deep breath and reopened her eyes.

During her small "absence", the others had gotten over their shock as well and there was now a conversation occurring about how this had happened and why in the name of the cabbage god Saradomin had shown up as well.

"It was an accident," Zamorak was insisting. "I don't want him here any more than you guys do."

"I assure you," Saradomin said, "were it my choice, I would still be among the trees and the sun of the Plane of Detachment."

"Oh, will you stop that!" Zamorak said angrily. "It _was_ your choice!"

Bilrach's expression was strangely devoid of the irritation that was usually present during those sorts of exchanges. "Not to interrupt, My Lord, but what is our next course of action, considering this new development?"

Wow, Bilrach really was as bad as Azzanadra. "Zamorak's lapdog", indeed.

"Course of action?" Zamorak asked. "I don't know. Ask him."

All of the eyes in the room followed his finger until they landed on Azzanadra, although Enakhra was fairly certain that Zamorak was in fact pointing at Zaros.

"I mean," Zamorak continued, "this whole thing was his brilliant plan." He raised his fists, a smirk on his face, and directed his next sentence at Zaros himself. "Were you thinking we would just fight it out here and now?"

"That would hardly be satisfactory," Zaros said.

"I agree," Zamorak said. "As much as I've always wanted to beat Azzanadra up, it really would be better if you were yourself."

The expression on Azzanadra's face didn't change, but they could all tell that Zaros had been caught off guard. "I do not know to what you are referring."

"Oh, come on," Zemouregal said. "The charade is over. How well did you think that inhabiting him and then being intelligent was going to work?"

"It was Azzanadra," Zaros said angrily. "I knew something was not right. He told you all."

Enakhra didn't know why she decided to defend the idiot, but her mouth opened and she said, "He didn't need to. The change in mannerisms was obvious."

"Look, it doesn't matter," Zamorak said. "Bill, you wanted a course of action, here it is — split up. I'm not discussing any plans with a whole bunch of my enemies."

Zaros held up a hand. "First, I issue you a challenge. We shall each gather an army of our most loyal followers, and in two weeks' time, we shall meet for battle. In this way, we will finish what was started at the end of the second age."

"If I may interject…" Saradomin looked around at the group, and finding nothing but blank stares, continued, "It seems to me that what was begun in the second age also ended in the second age. You, oh Empty Lord, were defeated. This is not a continuation, but rather a revisiting."

What with their tendency to be utterly against each other, Enakhra frequently forgot that Zamorak and Saradomin had in fact teamed up in order to eradicate Zaros' empire. Perhaps they had an ally that none of them had given enough consideration.

"I think I would call it a rematch," Zamorak said, "and I accept your challenge."

He was definitely hiding triumph under his mostly calm exterior — Enakhra could see the hint of a cocky smile coming through. He probably thought that he had already won. Since the second age, most of Zaros' forces had scattered, died, or defected, whereas there were a great many people who were loyal to Zamorak.

Zaros nodded once. "Good. Take those who wish to follow you and get out of my temple."

"Jutht a moment, pleathe."

Many dubious expressions turned toward Lucien's voice. He was standing behind the altar, looking rather like he had a plan. Which was unusual for him.

"What?" Zamorak asked. "Who are you even siding with?"

"I should think he's siding with us," Sliske said, "given his plans."

"Thideth are irrelevant," Lucien stated.

"That's ridiculous," Zemouregal said. "Of course they're not."

Lucien held up his right hand as though he was going to grab something, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"What the hell is he doing?" Bilrach asked.

All of the light in the room seemed suddenly to bend toward Lucien's outstretched hand, and then with a resounding _pop_, he was holding the Staff of Armadyl.

This caused an outbreak of incredulous staring.

In the lull that followed, Lucien swung the Staff sideways toward the symbol that topped the altar. There was a crack as the symbol came free. It flew a good twenty feet, landing in one of the pools of magma.

Zaros lunged toward Lucien with a snarl, but before he could take more than a step, Azzanadra's body collapsed onto the floor of the temple.

Enakhra had a moment to admire the fact that he had fallen nearly dead-center on the inlaid symbol on the floor, and then things began to happen that completely reallocated her attention.

* * *

**A/N: I believe the "Zamorak's lapdog" thing was actually from the Postbag, but I wanted to use it, so let's pretend that at some point, someone made that comment in-game. :]**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N: A couple of weeks ago, I went through and changed all of the chapter titles. Where previously there was a Prologue, there is now a Chapter One, and then the domino effect of that. The disconnect between the numeral and the chapter name that it was next to was bothering me, so I spent a few hours fixing it.**

**Anyway, just wanted to clear that up in case anyone was confused.**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Clearly he's gone insane."

Zemouregal's voice floated through the hazy blackness that was Azzanadra's unconscious, and slowly his nerve endings woke back up. He seemed to be lying on some kind of stone floor.

What had happened? He was sure he hadn't been hit over the head. He knew what that felt like and it wasn't this.

"I have not gone inthane. Your mindth jutht cannot grathp my ingeniouth plan."

Oh, right. Lucien, and his apparent sudden, intense distaste for symbols on the tops of altars.

"Would you like to bet on that statement?" Sliske asked. "Because I would assume that you realized that the altar was maintaining a link between Zaros' soul and his physical form and decided to break the link in an attempt to send the first back to the second, and I'm guessing that I would be correct."

There was a small, awkward silence.

"Well, yeth but—"

"I would also add," Sliske interrupted, "that you are unfortunately mistaken."

"No, he's not," Zemouregal said. "That's exactly how it works."

"Generally, yes," Sliske agreed. "In this case, however, the situation differs slightly."

"In what way?" Lucien asked, sounding affronted.

"Zaros isn't exactly your average being," Sliske said. "His physical aspect has far less draw than his incorporeal one. The connection goes the other way."

"Do you mean that he's somehow going to be pulled through?" Enakhra joined the conversation, and she sounded worried. "Is he going to materialize here?"

"Any moment, I'm sure," Sliske said.

Azzanadra had nearly dozed off listening to them talk about soul physics, but now his attention was back on the topic. He did _not_ want to be lying inert on the floor when Zaros showed up. Never mind that his god was now privy to all of his weaknesses, shortcomings, and bad experiences, _that_ would just be embarrassing.

He slowly pushed himself off of the tiles, feeling unusually wobbly. As he was in the middle of the room, this caused all conversation to fall silent. Azzanadra assumed that all of the room's occupants were now watching him, but he didn't bother to look.

Once he was upright, he brushed the dust off of his front in what he hoped was a dignified fashion and looked at Sliske.

"Could you go over that again?" he asked.

Sliske looked impassively at him. "Did you miss it while you were facedown on the floor, or do you just need it in simpler terms?"

The truth was that both of those were accurate, but that didn't make Sliske's phrasing any less insulting.

"Just repeat it," Azzanadra growled.

Sliske's attention suddenly focused on something behind Azzanadra, and he said, "I don't believe that will be necessary."

"Damn," Zemouregal said, also looking at whatever Sliske had been referring to.

Azzanadra turned around, deciding that missing this apparently impressive event would probably cause him regret in the future. This turned out to be a very good choice on his part.

A massive swirl of thick, purple smoke was collecting near the altar, and had these been any other circumstances, Azzanadra would have said that it looked a bit silly. In these circumstances, however, he dropped to his knees and waited.

Everyone else glanced at him when he did this, most of them with some expression of incredulousness or contempt. He ignored them. He had always treated Zaros' arrivals with the respect that he felt they deserved, and current events were not going to change that.

The smoke coalesced more slowly than he would have expected, and they all waited in a silence so long that it began to feel uncomfortable and slightly foolish. Finally, however, a menacing hooded figure was standing solidly before them.

Azzanadra detected the mood change as even the Zamorakians felt the awe of standing before Zaros, and couldn't help but feel smug. _Zamorak may be powerful and intelligent,_ he thought, _but he will never command the respect that Zaros receives from even his enemies._

"My Lord," he said, bowing his head. "It is good to have you back among us."

"I am sure you think so," Zaros said. "Tell me, Azzanadra… How are you enjoying your freedom?"

"I appreciate the added ability it gives me to serve you," he said unwaveringly.

Zaros laughed, and everyone in the room jumped slightly, startled. "Azzanadra, I have seen your thoughts. Your charade, while surely flattering, is no longer solid."

While he had been trapped within his own mind, Azzanadra had never thought of the possible long-term consequences that his off-the-cuff thoughts might have. There was nothing he could have done about them, of course, but now he was wishing he had thought to at least apologize for them.

Before he could make any comment or attempt to redeem himself, Zaros turned to Lucien.

"You," he said, and the single word seemed to fill the room, holding within it a multitude of threats and condemnations.

Lucien cowered.

"Your stupidity, it seems, is unending," Zaros said distastefully. "However, as it has benefited me this time, I will be merciful and withhold punitive measures. Although I do think it would be fitting for you to rebuild the altar that you so thoughtlessly destroyed. Do you agree?"

Lucien nodded shakily.

"Good." Zaros turned his attention to Zamorak. "This has changed nothing about our challenge. Do we still have an agreement?"

"Of course," Zamorak said. "I look forward to it."

Zaros nodded once. "Then leave. I will see you in exactly one fortnight. You will give me no less, you will take no more."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Zamorak agreed. "Let's go, guys. If you're coming with me, now's the time."

Within a minute, Enakhra, Bilrach, Zemouregal, and Saradomin had followed him out of the temple and were gone.

"Now," Zaros said imperiously, "we have work to do."

* * *

"Listen up," Zamorak said, standing himself commandingly at the head of the table and placing his hands on the rough wood of its top. Zemouregal had helpfully offered up his fortress as a base of operations, and they were now gathered around a large table in his cleverly-labeled 'planning room'. "Zaros has far fewer people that he can rely on, but the ones he does have are loyal and strong. We need to do as much as we can to make up for that. Bill, can you recruit some of your tunnel-diggers to help us out?"

Bilrach nodded. "I'll see to it."

"Zemouregal," Zamorak continued, "you have forces of your own. Gather them up, as many as you can."

Zemouregal didn't say anything, but nodded shortly.

"Enakhra…" Zamorak turned his gaze to where she was sitting, in the closest chair to his right. "For you, I have a very important task that I can entrust to no one else."

He saw the light in her eyes as he spoke, and only felt mildly guilty about using her devotion to garner the loyalty he needed for the job.

"Of course," she said immediately. "What is it?"

"I need the Staff of Armadyl," he said. "We can't let Lucien keep it. I don't know if he's planning to help Zaros in an attempt to kill me or if he has his own agenda, but either way, I want him as far out of the way as I can get him. The Staff is what allowed me to defeat Zaros last time, and while I'm far more powerful now than I was then, it would still put the odds a hell of a lot more toward my favor if we had it."

"Understood," she said. "Do you have any thoughts on how I might achieve this?"

Zamorak pushed himself upright and sighed. "Not as many as I would like. Lucien wants me dead, that much I know. However, there's no way that he'll trust you if you tell him that you've defected. Our only option is to go through someone he will trust, or at least listen to. Sliske seems like the best option for that, but as for how you're supposed to get _him_ to trust you…"

Enakhra nodded thoughtfully. "I'll do my best. I will not fail you."

"I know you won't." He said it simply, as a hard, undeniable fact. He knew that she wouldn't fail him on purpose, and not without giving the job her very best effort. If she failed, then it would only tell him that the task was going to be close to impossible.

"And for me?" Saradomin asked from the corner. "Do you have any commands to assign to me?"

Zamorak looked over at him, surprised. He had actually forgotten that the other god was there for a moment. "You want to help me?"

Saradomin frowned. "No, I do not want to help _you_, but neither do I want Zaros' presence to return to this world permanently. I am willing to offer my services until the threat of his reign has been dealt with."

"Great," Zamorak said, always glad of extra forces, no matter where they came from. "Get some of your people together, then."

Saradomin nodded.

Zamorak looked around the room. "We all know what we're up against. It's not going to be quite the same this time as it was last time, but it will probably come close. Are you all ready?"

All four of them indicated an affirmative.

Zamorak smiled chillingly. "Then let's do this."

* * *

**A/N: What do you think? Is that worthy of a "duh duh DUH"? I kind of felt like it was. :P**

**P.S. Duh duh DUH!**

**P.P.S. Sorry, I'm feeling a bit silly.**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**A/N: Yet again, I must apologize for the delay. Unfortunately (or not, depending how you look at it), I had a couple wonderful ideas for Doctor Who fics that I simply had to write, so that distracted me for a while. And I've been taking two college courses over the summer.**

**Anyway, a big thank you to Aharon, an anonymous reviewer who left me my 100th review. That was very exciting. :D**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

Zaros stood in front of his altar, looking around at the underground temple. Azzanadra desperately wanted him to say something about how impressive it was or how pleased he was that it had built in his honor, but the god remained silent.

Finally, he turned to where Lucien was standing, over in the corner. "What are your intentions?"

Considering the tone of his voice, Azzanadra was very surprised that he didn't add "worm" to the end of his sentence. Lucien seemed to be only barely managing not to flinch away, although even that was actually quite an accomplishment given that he was facing down Zaros.

"What do you mean?" he asked, the very slightest of tremors detectable in his voice.

Zaros glowered. "What do you think I mean? Are you intending to stay here and assist me, or are you intending to flee like the cowardly rat that you are?"

Lucien drew his shoulders back. "Neither of thothe are accurate. I do not plan to athitht you, but I will not 'flee'. I have thingth I mutht attend to. Good day."

In a move that was either very gutsy or completely stupid, Lucien didn't wait for a response before he raised his arms and called up a teleport. Within seconds, he had vanished entirely.

"Good," Zaros said, turning his attention to the two people left in the room, "I did not wish for the nettlesome experience of his proximity. Sliske, Azzanadra… inform me of important developments. I must know where all of my people are, and how easily I might gather an army."

Sliske just shrugged. "I'm not the person to ask. I haven't exactly been keeping up with the news."

Zaros's demeanor shifted only slightly, and he turned to Azzanadra. "In that case, you will have to be particularly informative."

Azzanadra nodded once. "Of course, My Lord."

* * *

Enakhra left Zemouregal's fortress with a powerful sense of motivation moving her forward. It had been so very long since Zamorak had been available to send her on a mission, and she had nearly forgotten how much she missed it.

Her first challenge was of course to find out what had become of Lucien after they had left Senntisten. If he had decided to join with the Zarosians — or at least pretend to have done so — then her task might prove to be very difficult. However, if he had chosen to pursue some solitary undertaking, then her chances seemed far higher. It was much easier to outsmart someone who was working by themselves.

Once she arrived at Senntisten, she realized that her job would be far easier if she utilized the Shadow Realm. She had never been all that confident in her ability to manipulate it, but she was certainly better than a few other Mahjarrat that she could name. Of course, using it for spying purposes was a lot trickier than simply traveling through it.

She stood for a moment, contemplating her options. Finally, she decided that it was probably a better idea to eavesdrop the traditional way, rather than risk her skin for the possibility of the Shadow Realm. She made her way down into the temple, slowing her steps as she got closer to the cavern's entrance.

"And what of Char?" was the first thing she heard, in Zaros's ominous tones.

"Char?" Azzanadra replied. "The last I heard of her, she was hiding out in a cave somewhere. As far as I know, she's still loyal."

"She should be collected. Her services would be of great use."

"Which services?" Sliske's wry mutter came from much closer than Enakhra had anticipated. He must have been standing just inside the doorway. In fact, Enakhra guessed that he was actually closer to her than he was to the cavern's other occupants, because there was no verbal indication that they had even heard him.

"Are those your orders, My Lord?" Azzanadra asked. "Should I go get Char?"

"In part," Zaros replied. "In full, your orders are to gather any Mahjarrat that are still loyal to me, and also to collect Char. Should you happen to meet any other beings that might be loyal to our cause during your travels, you are to gather them as well."

"Of course, My Lord."

Either Lucien was being very quiet, or he was in fact not present. Enakhra smiled. _Excellent._

"Sliske." Zaros's tone was annoyed, and Enakhra couldn't help but feel incredibly glad that it was in no way aimed toward her. "Have you even been paying attention?"

"Yes," came Sliske's apathetic reply. "I suppose you have orders for me, as well?"

Enakhra almost thought she could feel the wave of Zaros's vexation from the other side of the wall, but perhaps she was imagining things.

"Indeed. You will go to these 'Barrows' and retrieve your wights."

"Absolutely," Sliske said, his word choice far more enthusiastic than the tone in which he delivered it.

Enakhra frowned. She had thought that Sliske could summon the Barrows Brothers, so why would he need to go to Morytania and get them? Maybe she had gotten that detail wrong, somehow. Or maybe Sliske had a hidden agenda.

She rolled her eyes at her own naive thoughts. Of course Sliske had a hidden agenda. The real question was what it involved.

"I have no further questions," Zaros said. "Go."

Enakhra sensed the tell-tale spark of power nearby that indicated the use of a teleport. Seeing an opportunity, she sent up a prayer that Sliske was actually going to Morytania and then quickly teleported there herself.

* * *

Zamorak hated Ardougne. He really had no reason to hate it, considering that two of his most loyal followers were located very near it, but something about the place just bugged him. It had an overly cheerful marketplace, too many guards, a stupidly pompous castle, and two banks. Who needed two banks?

He pulled his hood further over his head as he scowled his way through the streets. He had disguised himself as a human, obviously, but giving himself tunnel vision couldn't possibly be a bad thing right then.

When he finally arrived in the cave that he had been looking for, he realized that his trip was going to be frustrated even more — the damn underground river was moving in entirely the wrong way to allow him passage.

_There's something about… wheels, or levers, or… things that turn, _he remembered, grinding his teeth slightly at the insanity of it all. _No. I refuse to be outsmarted by a halfwit's daft security system._

With a gesture, he froze the river solid and started down the tunnel.

By the time he arrived in the large cavern that served as the headquarters, Zamorak was ready to spit fire, having gotten lost several times without the proper flow of the river to guide him. He poked the nearest cloaked figure rather violently. "Where's Hazeel?"

The figure whirled around in alarm and raised his voice to what was clearly meant to be a menacing tone. "Who are you, and how did you find this place?"

Zamorak sighed. Had Hazeel taught his disciples nothing? Surely they should be able to recognize their boss's boss. Zamorak always incorporated a couple of defining traits into his disguises, and any of his more educated followers would have easily been able to identify him.

"Does 'Master of Chaos, Destruction, and All Things Awesome' ring any bells?" he asked. Getting no recognition, he added, "Or does no one actually call me that? It's possible I made that one up."

"We do not allow trespassers here," the cloaked man blustered, clearly very off-put.

Grumbling, Zamorak let his disguise slide away.

The man stared for a moment, and then something seemed to click. He suddenly swept a very melodramatic bow and said, "My Lord. I am so very sorry. With my most sincere apologies, I must inform you that Our Lord Hazeel is not in at the moment. He will be returning shortly, however. Should you wish to wait we have some lovely, erm… folding, wooden chairs."

A scrawnier cloaked fellow scurried over and handed Zamorak a rickety-looking collection of sticks and nails that the god supposed must unfold into a chair.

With the next in the day's uncounted series of scowls, Zamorak stalked over to the side of the cavern, pushed the chair into some semblance of structure, and sat down with as much dignity as he could muster. He valiantly ignored the multiple cracking noises the flimsy thing emitted as it struggled against gravity.

This trip was going _brilliantly_.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you ahead of time to all of the people who will read and review this chapter. I'm constantly amazed that there are still people reading this story, so thank you thank you thank you. :)**


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**A/N: It's terrible that I feel really good about myself for only taking three weeks to update, but I do. Hopefully you're all excited about it too. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Azzanadra decided to start by gathering the other Zarosian Mahjarrat, both because he figured that they were more important and because he really didn't feel like going to get Char just then. He understood that any help was good help, but he had never really gotten along with her. He chalked it up to differing personalities. The truth was probably more that they were stuck in a very weird competition for Zaros' attention.

Ghorrock was strangely empty when Azzanadra teleported in. Not that it had been bursting its limits when they had been there before, but now it was far too still. He glanced around, searching for signs of life. He finally spotted Akthanakos over in a snowy corner, settled on a large chunk of stone and looking fairly bored.

"Akthanakos," he called, starting toward the other Mahjarrat.

Akthanakos looked up in surprise. "Azzanadra. Hello."

"Have you been here the whole time?" Azzanadra asked. "By yourself?"

Akthanakos shrugged. "Not entirely. Khazard arrived a few hours ago. What else was I supposed to do, considering that I was not invited on your little field trip?"

_Not everyone who went was invited,_ Azzanadra thought. _Nothing stopped them._

Keeping that to himself, Azzanadra proceeded to fill Akthanakos in on the recent developments.

"And now we need to see if we can find anyone else," he finished. "I was thinking that Wahisietel might be a good start. I've heard from him more recently than Jhallan."

"I agree," Akthanakos said. "Do you know where he is?"

Azzanadra paused. "South," he said after a moment, not as confidently as he had intended. "In the desert… possibly."

"I know his location."

Azzanadra turned to look at Khazard, who had apparently come up behind him at some point. "Oh, do you?"

Khazard nodded.

"And why would you tell us?"

Khazard smiled, an expression that seemed as though it was supposed to be sly and menacing but looked a bit more like the expression of someone who had a very inquisitive dentist. "I don't know. Why would I?"

_Oh, mighty Zaros,_ Azzanadra thought in vexation. _Do I really have to deal with this?_

He looked to Akthanakos for help, but the other Zarosian was looking back at him, apparently waiting for him to deal with situation.

_I need a clever lie. What would work? Damn it, this is what Sliske is good for._

"Well," he said, "you see… um…" _Stop stalling. Stop stalling._ _Clever lie…_ "We're… on board with sacrificing him in the Ritual. If you tell us where he is, we won't vote for you instead."

He held his face as still as he could, trying not to show the triumph that he felt at actually coming up with something.

Khazard's eyes narrowed. Azzanadra hoped that it was because he was thinking very hard and not because he could see straight through Azzanadra's only-somewhat-clever lie.

After a very long, rather tense moment, Khazard told them.

* * *

Enakhra scowled as she landed on soggy ground, the foul stink of marsh assaulting her nasal passages unpleasantly. She glanced around and was momentarily worried that Sliske had been going somewhere else after all. Then she spotted him, a short way off and picking his way through the squashy tufts of weed. Almost as soon as she looked his way, he looked back. She supposed he must have sensed her teleport.

Feeling a bit silly, she lifted her hand in a small wave.

He frowned and started making his way back toward her. "What are you doing here?"

She felt water begin to seep into her boot, and tried to shift surreptitiously to dryer land as she replied, "I have a proposal for you."

"I see." Sliske's expression was not exactly alight with anticipation, but he didn't seem completely disinterested. Enakhra took this as a good sign. "I suppose it's something that I'm not necessarily going to like, but that I might see the pragmatism in, yes?"

"Well…"

"I thought so." He sighed. "Go ahead. Let's hear it."

Oh gods. Her foot was sinking. "Is there somewhere else we can talk?"

"No."

She shot him a dirty look. He seemed far too pleased about that syllable. "Fine."

Ice wasn't her strongest magic, but she had plenty of skill to freeze the area beneath her feet. Unfortunately, she also froze the edge of her boot. _Wonderful. Now I'm going to get frostbite._

She did her best to pretend that her foot wasn't slowly losing all of its feeling as she gathered her thoughts and attempted to put together a compelling persuasion.

"I believe I am correct in saying that Lucien left shortly after we did," she said. Sliske made no indication that she was, so she assumed that he would have corrected her if she hadn't been and continued. "He has the Staff of Armadyl, and, as we all know, that happens to be a rather important item. There's a very good chance that possessing it could possibly turn things in one's favor."

"If you're about to suggest that I help you retrieve the Staff so that you can give it to your inept leader," Sliske said distastefully, "then you are entirely wasting your time."

Enakhra stoically held back all of the responses she had for "inept". "Of course not. I'm not an idiot."

"That is debatable."

_Oh, he is just…_ She took a deep breath. "I didn't come here to trade insults, Sliske. My suggestion is that we find Lucien and relieve him of the Staff. Then we destroy it."

Sliske's eyebrows rose slightly. "I'll admit that I was not expecting you to say that. Probably because that is an utterly daft idea."

"Why?" she asked challengingly. "You don't think that maybe we've all gotten a little too caught up in the Staff drama? That maybe we should just get it over with? We both know that Lucien isn't planning anything that would help either of our sides, and I personally think that Zamorak and Zaros would prefer to fight it out honestly, without any tricks."

"Zaros, maybe," Sliske said. "Zamorak… never. He loves his tricks."

"He also loves the challenge of finding out once and for all who is greater," Enakhra returned. "The Staff won't help him do that. It's only going to get in the way, and I think that we should fix that. Otherwise Lucien will show up later and turn everything upside-down at the worst possible moment, I'm sure."

She could see in his eyes that he didn't believe her for a second. He knew that Zamorak wanted her to get the Staff, but she was certain that he also knew Lucien couldn't be allowed to keep it. As long as he agreed for now, she could deal with later when it came.

"Alright," he said at last. "I'll help you."

Enakhra smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Review because I didn't keep you waiting for months this time?**


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**A/N: I'm back!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

The desert heat was stifling, as usual, and Azzanadra was becoming grumpier and grumpier the more time he spent trudging across the sandy terrain. He couldn't complain about anything without losing all of his dignity, as he had been the one to insist on walking rather than taking one of those ridiculous carpets, so his discomfort was at least tripled. Suffering in silence had never been his style.

There wasn't even any conversation to distract him. Any small talk with Akthanakos inevitably came back around to camels, Enakhra, or the state of the economy in Misthalin. (Azzanadra had no idea why Akthanakos thought the last item was relevant to anything, but he certainly seemed to get very agitated about it.) Generally speaking, Azzanadra avoided small talk, and small talk about things that annoyed him was never preferable to no talk.

They had damn well better be nearly there.

It was a good fifteen minutes later that Nardah finally grew large enough on the horizon for them to see some vague details, and even then they were still probably a half hour's walk away. Azzanadra sighed and toiled on.

They were about to enter the town when Akthanakos held out an arm to stop Azzanadra.

"What?" Azzanadra growled, not in the mood for much of anything just then.

"I've heard rumors about this place," Akthanakos said seriously. "From what I know, they do not take kindly to the presence of strangers, and should you do anything to displease them, they may decide to throw you into a scorpion pit for their own entertainment. I have also heard that they find bare ears offensive, so you must wear large, fancy earrings or cover your ears entirely."

"What kind of crap gossip do you listen to?" Azzanadra asked scornfully. "None of that is true."

Akthanakos shook his head sadly, as though a young child had just ignored his advice to not run with sharp objects in their hand. "I suppose it is your own fate that you are deciding."

Azzanadra watched incredulously as Akthanakos withdrew a pair of appallingly gaudy camel-shaped earrings from his pocket and clipped them to his ears. One of the large rubies caught the sunlight and refracted it into Azzanadra's eyes, and he flinched, irritated.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever seen," he said flatly.

Akthanakos showed no indication that such a statement bothered him at all. "When in Varrock, do as the Varrockians do."

Azzanadra rolled his eyes and headed into the town, hoping very much that the camel-adorned lunatic would stay at least thirty paces behind him. He could do without that kind of association.

* * *

"Why Ardougne?" Enakhra asked. As glad as she was to be out of the swampy terrain of Morytania, she found Sliske's choice to be rather arbitrary. "Aren't there better places to look for Lucien?"

Sliske's vexation was palpable. "I know what I'm doing. Lucien spent many years in Ardougne before beginning his plot to steal the Staff, and I believe it's a very good place to start."

"Okay, but wouldn't he want to go someplace where—"

"I am not saying that he's going to be here," Sliske snapped, "I'm just saying that we should start our search somewhere. I realize that you have developed a superiority complex, but you are the one who asked for my help."

Enakhra bristled. "I do not have a superiority complex!"

"Of course you do," he said, his tone flat and cool. "You have taken your position as the last female Mahjarrat and let it carry you through every conflict, which is both unnecessary and presumptuous."

"But I _am_ the last female Mahjarrat," she returned. "The future of our race is reliant on me."

"Then perhaps you should stop quibbling about your feelings and actually do something about that."

She stopped. How _dare_ he. "I didn't ask for the honor, but Palkeera went and kicked it on me. What was I supposed to do?"

He had continued walking even though she hadn't, but now he froze as well. Despite only being able to see his back, she could tell that he was suddenly very tense.

What the hell?

She walked forward until she was level with him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he said tersely, but she failed to believe him due to his clenched teeth and the sense of discomfort that was coming off him in waves.

"Yeah, sure," she said, eyebrows raised. "You look like it's nothing."

It was something she had said, obviously, but what? She thought back on her last sentence. Honor… What was she supposed to do…

Palkeera.

_Palkeera went and kicked it on me._

She stood in shock as pieces came together in her brain, pieces that made no sense and yet really kind of _did_.

"Oh my _gods_," she said quietly. "It was you! All this time, it was you. How the _hell_ did you pull that off?"

"What are you talking about." It wasn't really a question, and the fact that he was staring resolutely at a tree only reinforced the notion that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"You were Palkeera's mysterious beau," she said, now fully confident in her statement. "You're Khazard's father."

Now he was looking at her.

"You have _no_ proof of that," he said, his voice low and angry.

"I don't need proof," she said. "Your reaction has been validating enough. Does Khazard even know?"

"No," Sliske said flatly, giving up the charade, "and you're not going to tell him, or anyone. The fact that you know is making me ill enough as it is. This should have stayed buried with her."

She had finally figured out one of the mysteries that had been nagging at her for a couple of days now, but her triumph was quickly fading as she took in the implications of this new discovery. She ended up in a sort of mental overload state, and all her brain could do was repeat _Sliske and Palkeera_ over and over again.

At no point did it start to sound anything other than bizarre.

She needed more information. "Hang on, so—"

"I'm not going to answer any of your inane questions," he told her sharply. "If you pursue this subject, you'll be getting the Staff from Lucien on your own."

She closed her mouth, annoyed. One answer had left dozens of questions burning in its wake, but it looked like she wasn't going to get any more information without compromising her mission.

"Fine," she said, and strode up the path.

* * *

"So you're saying that Zamorak has begun a war?" Wahisietel asked, his brows furrowed.

Azzanadra shrugged. "He's calling it a 'rematch'."

"And he did not begin it," Akthanakos added. "Zaros issued the challenge. Zamorak merely accepted it with a large dose of enthusiasm."

Wahisietel looked at Akthanakos, glanced at his ears, then quickly returned his focus to Azzanadra. Azzanadra could empathize. It was difficult to take Akthanakos seriously on any given day, and he had now made it at least three times as difficult.

"I can't say that I welcome the idea of dramatic conflict," Wahisietel said. "These are definitely Zaros's orders?"

Akthanakos nodded, and his adornments flung spots of light about the room. "He was very clear. We are to—"

"You weren't even there," Azzanadra said with no small amount of contempt. "You have no idea what he was or wasn't clear about."

Akthanakos's expression suggested that he found Azzanadra's comment to be very rude, but he stopped talking.

Good enough.

"He _was_ quite clear, though," Azzanadra said, shooting a glare in Akthanakos's direction. "We're gathering as much of an army as we can manage, to prepare for battle in a fortnight."

Wahisietel sighed. "If those are his wishes, I suppose I cannot argue. This just seems very unnecessary. I, for one, was rather enjoying the lack of upheaval in my life these days."

Azzanadra rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You always were a bit soft. So are you with us or not?"

"Yes. For now, at least."

"Great," Azzanadra said, already turning to leave the tiny construction that Wahisietel called a home. "Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: So I've been looking forward to writing that second scene for over two years now, but now that I finally have I'm fairly nervous about it. It's so very… fannish and non-canon. I hope you guys find it interesting, rather than having an "Oh, for the love of Pete, what is she thinking?" sort of reaction.**

**(FYI - Alex and I have had this plot point in mind for ages, and I made the decision to ignore Mod Osborne's recent declaration that Khazard's father is "a powerful Zamorakian". So sue me.)**

**I'm crossing my fingers that no one thinks I've grossly defiled the canon and leaves in an outrage. Review?**


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**A/N: Ever-so-slightly less than a month between updates! Am I on a roll or what?**

**-crickets-**

**Yes. Well. Anyway. Enjoy the chapter?**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

It was with great relief that Zamorak teleported away from Ardougne and back to the frigid landscape of Ghorrock. Hazeel had finally shown up, and while he was more than willing to join the battle, he apparently needed some time to gather his things. Zamorak had left him with instructions to join them at Zemouregal's fortress and then gotten the hell out of that cave.

It was probably for the best. Hazeel wasn't really capable of interesting conversation, so he made a pretty terrible traveling companion.

Zamorak quickly spotted Khazard, as he was just sort of standing in the middle of Ghorrock and looking a bit lonely.

"Are you here by yourself?" Zamorak asked as he walked up. "Where did everyone else go?"

"Akthanakos was the only one here when I arrived," Khazard replied, "and he just left with Azzanadra."

Zamorak sighed. "Of course he did. I suppose Azzanadra is probably under the same orders I gave to my own people."

Khazard looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"He came to gather up Akthanakos to join the Zarosian side of this conflict, yes?"

"I don't know what you mean," Khazard said. "They said nothing about a conflict. They simply wanted to know where Wahisietel was because they intend to sacrifice him in the coming Ritual."

Zamorak resisted the urge to slap a hand over his face. "Is that what they told you?"

"What they told me?" Khazard asked. "Are you suggesting that wasn't the truth?"

"Obviously."

Khazard scowled, clearly put out by Zamorak's statement. "I don't see what's so obvious about that."

Zamorak didn't bother to reply to that. "I suppose you told them where Wahisietel was."

"Yes," Khazard said. "It was in my best interests to cooperate with them, I assure you."

"If they told you they would vote for you if you didn't and you were stupid enough to believe them," Zamorak said with a roll of his eyes, "then yes, I guess it would have been."

Khazard glared at him. "Did you come here merely to insult me?"

"Nope." Zamorak settled himself onto a nearby rock. "Have a seat and I'll fill you in."

* * *

It took Sliske longer than Enakhra thought was reasonable to remember that there was a very obvious location to check for Lucien.

"You knew that Lucien had a camp up north and that wasn't your _first_ thought?" she asked him incredulously.

The look that Sliske gave her could have frozen the depths of the Karamja Volcano solid. He wasn't usually nice, but he had been particularly cold since her earlier revelation. "We'll need to use the Shadow Realm to enter the camp. I believe he's set up some ridiculous method of teleporting in from somewhere else and I don't feel like trying to find that."

"Okay, sure," she said, letting him have his evasive conversation tactics. "What's the plan once we're in? Zamorak thought that perhaps you could tell Lucien that you had defe—"

"No."

Enakhra frowned, affronted. "Why not?"

"Pretending that I was on Lucien's side would get us no closer to the Staff. He is not likely to part with it no matter who is asking."

"Well, fine." She crossed her arms. "What's your brilliant idea, then?"

"The simplest idea that there is," he said. "We're going to have to steal it."

* * *

The area of the Shadow Realm that Sliske seemed to think matched up with Lucien's camp contained, as far as Enakhra could tell, absolutely nothing. There were no foggy shapes or bits of magical residue, and Enakhra was half-convinced that Sliske was just guessing. She didn't say anything, though, because she was slightly worried that he was nearing the end of his rope, and she didn't want to lose the help.

"I'm not going to remove us completely from the Shadow Realm," he told her. "We will be mostly in Gielinor, but I'll be using traces of the Realm to hide us, both visually and aurally."

"So basically," she surmised, "we'll be able to see and hear them, but they won't be able to see or hear us."

"Yes."

"Alright," she said. "Let's go then."

Enakhra blinked repeatedly as the shroud of the Shadow Realm fell away. It was sunny on the other side, and the snowy landscape that they had stepped into only intensified that. She was surprised at the clarity of the world around her. Her imagination had conjured up an image of them standing in Gielinor, surrounded by wisps of shadow that obscured details and listening to the voices of those around them echo through the gap between worlds.

In reality, she would have had no idea that they were still partially in the Shadow Realm if Sliske hadn't told her as much. The only indication she had was a nagging sense of wrongness and disconnect, as though she had walked into a familiar room and someone had repainted the walls a subtly different shade.

She wanted to ask Sliske where Lucien was, if he was so sure to be there, but a part of her was irrationally worried that the people milling around the camp would be able to hear her, despite the fact that no one had screamed and pointed in shock when she and Sliske had stepped out of the Shadow Realm.

"Stay within three paces of me," Sliske told her, his tone instructional and fairly condescending. She would have been peeved about that if she hadn't been so relieved that he had spoken first. "My ability to conceal us is somewhat limited."

They made their way through the camp, until they turned a corner and heard the tell-tale sound of someone in desperate need of a speech therapist.

"Down there," Enakhra said, pointing.

"Yes, I am aware."

Enakhra rolled her eyes. "Sorry."

They moved toward Lucien until they could hear him easily, and in doing so brought the person that he was speaking to into their line of sight.

Enakhra stared in surprise. "Is that Moia?"

"So it would seem."

"…not at all what I athked of you," Lucien was saying. "If I had wanted to know what the Oracle thought I would have gone to her mythelf. It theemth that every mithion I thend you on either failth or hath an entirely different effect than I intended. You embarrath me."

"I am sorry, father," Moia said, her gaze aimed at a crate next to Lucien's feet. "What might I do to amend my mistakes?"

"Nothing," Lucien said scornfully. "I doubt that I could even trutht you to guard the Thtaff. Go mend thome armor or thomething."

"As you wish," she said, and walked steadily away without glancing back.

"He is a terrible father," Enakhra said, feeling her disgust for Lucien rise incrementally. "Moia would be better off without him."

"Moia is inconsequential," Sliske said dismissively. "If Lucien doesn't trust her, then she's of no use to us. It seems as though he's set a guard on the Staff. We would do better to locate that individual."

Enakhra said nothing to that, simply followed Sliske as he headed further through the camp. Gears were turning in her mind after that little encounter, and as she walked, she plotted.

She would get the Staff and bring it triumphantly back to Zamorak, and then she would set her own plan into motion.

Things were looking up.

* * *

**A/N: So I started a poll related to this lovely story on my profile, and forgot to mention it when I posted the last chapter. If you would like to go check it out, that would be much appreciated. (You get to tell me your opinion, and who doesn't love to do that?)**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**A/N: This is a shocker, isn't it? A new chapter of Shadows up in a week? Has the world tilted off its axis?**

**I'm afraid I must recommend not getting used to it, though, because there won't be another one for a while. November is upon us, and I will be spending the next month writing a 50,000 word novel.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Having left Akthanakos and Wahisietel at the Senntisten temple to receive their own debriefings from Zaros, Azzanadra headed west. He was going in the general direction of Char, but wondered if maybe there was someone else he could stop and pick up first. Jhallan was the only other Mahjarrat loyal to Zaros. Going in order of most powerful allies would put him very far down on the list, though, even if Azzanadra knew where to find him. So never mind that. Although he wouldn't be adverse to sacrificing that fool in the Ritual if he ever showed up.

He was having a brief internal chuckle at how gullible Khazard had been when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

The Ritual.

He hadn't really thought about it since Zaros had shown back up, but now he realized that it was getting very close. In fact… Yes, he was pretty sure that it was going to land _within_ the two-week mark that Zamorak and Zaros had agreed upon. By a couple of days.

He had to find Sliske. They definitely had more important things to deal with than getting Char.

* * *

As it turned out, Lucien had left two guards with the job of watching the Staff. This ended up being even less of a problem than one guard, as they were caught up in a menial discussion about pie versus cake and had no idea what hit them when Sliske and Enakhra wrapped them in magic and pressed them into unconsciousness.

"That was too easy," Enakhra said as they walked over to the Staff. "Lucien is far too confident about his secrets staying secret."

"I am not complaining," Sliske said.

They both stopped barely a foot away from the Staff and looked at each other.

Enakhra knew that Sliske had no intention of letting her take the Staff and run back to Zamorak with it, and normally that would have concerned her. This time, however, luck had shown itself to be firmly on her side. She had — for lack of a non-poker-related analogy — an ace up her sleeve. An unplanned, unforeseen, ever-so-helpful ace that she knew was going to blow all sorts of holes in whatever clever plan Sliske had devised.

She reached out and took the Staff of Armadyl.

She had to admit that she was a little bit shocked at the amount of power that suddenly coursed through her. She knew that the Staff was powerful, obviously — they all did — but she had never expected _this_. It was like her nerve endings had all fired up at once, and she felt incredibly tingly.

It was very odd.

"Alright, then," she said, feeling extra confident now that she had enough power running through her to kill a god. "You're going to take us back out of Lucien's camp, get us out of the Shadow Realm, and then let me leave with the Staff. It's simplicity itself."

Sliske seemed caught between amusement and disbelief. "Why in Zaros's name would I do any of that?"

"Because," she said, stepping forward and smiling calmly, "I know something that you don't want anyone else to ever know. If you want me to keep your secret, you're going to have to help me out a little."

The change in his expression was impressive to say the least. Honestly, Enakhra wouldn't have been all that surprised to see tiny bolts of lightning in his eyes with how thunderously they were glaring at her.

"You would presume to manipulate _me_?" he asked her, his voice a low hiss.

"Yes," she said, "yes, I would. In fact, I have been waiting _centuries_ for the chance. Now, are you going to do as I ask or would you like me to tell Zemouregal what exactly it is that you've been hiding?"

* * *

The planning room in Zemouregal's fortress had been very quiet for the half hour that Zamorak had been there since returning from Ghorrock, and he had taken advantage of the calm to relax for a bit.

His calm was suddenly interrupted by the room's doors slamming open. With a scowl, he opened his eyes to see who this interloper might be.

When he saw, he dropped his feet off of the large table and stood in one quick motion.

Enakhra was standing in the doorway, one hand clasped around the Staff of Armadyl and a triumphant smile on her face.

Zamorak barely registered Zemouregal following her into the room. She had done it. She had really, honestly, actually done it.

And quickly, too.

"How?" he asked.

She set the Staff down on the table with a self-satisfied flourish. "I can't say. Part of the deal."

He was a bit curious about that, but chose to let it go in favor of far more interesting things. He walked up to the table and passed his hand over the Staff, smiling slightly.

"This is incredible, Enakhra," he told her earnestly. "Well done."

Her pride practically bounced off the walls.

Zemouregal crossed his arms. "So we have a Staff. Now what?"

"_Now what?_" Enakhra shot him a minor death glare. "We have the Staff of Armadyl, moron. Do you know just how powerful this thing is?"

"I've never personally used it," he said, "but yes, I am aware of the magnitude."

"Then what sort of question is that?"

"Excuse me, you two," Zamorak said blandly. "As much as I enjoy listening to a bunch of senseless bickering, we have much better things to be discussing."

Enakhra immediately quieted, looking fairly ashamed of herself. Zemouregal closed his mouth, but chose to glare at the floor instead of being even remotely helpful.

"We have the Staff," Zamorak said, "and we have some allies. What we don't have is a plan or any kind of strategy. The Zarosians have Sliske on their side, so we know they're going to have some sly trick ready. We need to be completely prepared for that, and have something even better going for us."

Enakhra opened her mouth, then frowned and closed it again.

"What is it?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

He watched her suspiciously for a moment, but she didn't seem inclined to elaborate and he trusted that if it was important, she would have told him.

"Okay," he said, moving on. "So the two of you seem like the best chance I have for a good idea as far as sneaky strategy goes. I wouldn't trust Hazeel or Khazard with this if the choice was them or a sheep, and Bill hasn't gotten back from Daemonheim yet. Start brainstorming."

Enakhra hesitated. "Do we have permission to do our brainstorming elsewhere? I have something I'd like to check up on."

Considering that she had just brought him the Staff of Armadyl, Zamorak figured he could give her a bit of wiggle room as far as orders went. "Whatever you need to do. We still have nearly two weeks, so I'm not worried just yet."

"Thank you."

He turned to Zemouregal, who had said nothing. "Do you accept the task?"

Zemouregal nodded once.

"Alright, then," Zamorak said. "Dismissed."

Zemouregal's expression turned slightly sour at that, and as he watched the two of them leave, it occurred to Zamorak that this was Zemouregal's fortress. He probably wasn't particularly accustomed to having people dismiss him out of his own planning room.

But that was his own problem, and considering the necromancer's attitude recently, Zamorak couldn't say that he felt the least bit sympathetic about it.

He sat back down in the chair he had recently vacated and returned his feet to the table, his mind once again turning to the persistent problem that was Zaros.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you all again when I emerge from NaNoWriMo.**

**Would it be too much to ask for a couple of reviews to get me through the month? -insert winning smile here-**


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**A/N: I successfully completed NaNo, and then kind of… took a month off? Sorry. Very sorry. I did write a rather neat, Lore-ish oneshot about Azzanadra, though, if anyone is interested. I posted it on Christmas.**

**Anyway, I'm not really sure that this chapter was worth the wait, but here it is all the same.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Sliske wasn't at Senntisten.

Azzanadra scowled and looked around at the empty cavern-temple. Okay, so maybe it had been unreasonable to expect that Sliske would have been back already, but shouldn't _someone_ have been there? Where was Zaros?

He wandered over to the altar, running a finger along the broken edge.

Hadn't Lucien said that he was going to fix it?

"Athanadra!"

Azzanadra froze, his fingertip still resting on the altar.

"I wath hoping I would find you here. I have a matter I would like to dithcuth with you."

He turned around slowly, his gaze coming to rest on Lucien. The power-crazed lunatic was standing in the entrance to the cavern, his spine straight and a comically serious expression on his face.

"Do you now?" Azzanadra asked. "You know, last time I saw you, you were fleeing Zaros' wrath like the coward that you are. Why would I want to hear anything you have to say?"

"I did not _flee_," Lucien said, taking a small step forward. "I thimply had other plathes to be. I have returned becauthe I have information that might interetht you."

Azzanadra scoffed. "I doubt that."

Lucien crossed his arms. "Would it not interetht you to learn where Jhallan hath hidden himthelf?"

"Jhallan?" Azzanadra looked levelly at Lucien, trying to figure out why the hell he should be interested in Jhallan's whereabouts. "Are you saying that _you_ know where he is?"

Lucien nodded. "I am very well informed, I'll have you know. I have thpieth everywhere."

"Sure you do," Azzanadra agreed skeptically. "I'm guessing that you would want something in return for this _highly important _nugget of information."

"Of courthe," Lucien said. "As recompenthe, I would thimply athk that you allow me the uthe of your rethourtheth and promithe to vote againtht me ath a pothible thacrifithe in the coming Ritual."

"So you want protection," Azzanadra surmised.

"No," Lucien said indignantly, then paused. "Well… yeth. I thuppothe I do."

Azzanadra crossed his arms. "That's ridiculous."

"No it'th not."

"Yes, it is. Why are you suddenly interested in being protected from all the nasties out there, instead of ruling the world?"

"My intent wath never to rule the world," Lucien said stiffly. "Yeth or no?"

Azzanadra wasn't planning to say anything either way until he had figured out Lucien's sudden change of heart. He refused to be a fool in someone else's plan.

Clearly something had happened. Something big. Something detrimental to Lucien's plans.

"You lost the Staff of Armadyl, didn't you?"

Lucien said nothing, but his expression did sour slightly.

"Well," Azzanadra said, crossing his arms smugly, "I can't say that I'm surprised. Sorry, but I don't see why your stupidity should have any impact on me whatsoever. No deal."

"Don't you want to know where Jhallan ith?" Lucien asked, his voice very clearly tinged with desperation. "I know where he ith!"

"So you said. Frankly, I don't care at all about that coward." He leaned forward on the balls of his feet. "_No deal._"

"You can have my daughter!"

Azzanadra leaned back, his brows rising. "You mean the half-blood that you consistently refer to as 'incompetent'? Is that supposed to sweeten the pot? And what exactly do you mean by 'have'?"

"I will pledge her to Tharoth'th cauthe," Lucien said. "I promithe you, Moia ith a very hard worker."

"Oh, just get out of here," Azzanadra said, waving a hand in the direction of the cavern's entrance. "I'm done with this."

Lucien looked fairly anguished by this proclamation, but by the time he had called up a teleport, his expression had turned to one of anger. As he vanished, Azzanadra wondered if maybe he should have said yes, just to keep Lucien out of trouble.

Ah, well. There wasn't much he could do about it now.

* * *

"Zemouregal!" Zamorak called. He took a moment to wait for a reply, then continued down the hall when he didn't get one. There was no means of communication in Zemouregal's fortress, which Zamorak thought was a rather serious oversight. Now he was being forced to wander around the place, shouting for his subordinate like some kind of needy child.

Finally, he turned a corner and encountered the other Mahjarrat standing in the hall before him, apparently engaged in conversation with a very ugly gargoyle. Zamorak walked up beside them and crossed his arms.

Zemouregal stopped addressing the gargoyle and looked over at Zamorak. "What?"

He wasn't still sore about being dismissed earlier, was he?

"I was wondering if you keep any food in this place," Zamorak said. "I like to snack while I concoct my wily schemes."

"Sharathteerk," Zemouregal said, once again addressing the gargoyle, "go get our illustrious commander some food."

Sharathteerk looked like he didn't really know what was going on, but he nodded once and headed down the hall.

Zamorak looked calculatingly at Zemouregal. The necromancer wasn't doing anything wrong, and yet… something wasn't right.

"Okay," Zamorak said, "what's up?"

Zemouregal looked steadily back at him. "What do you mean?"

"I need my best people with me right now, and I'm getting the feeling that you're… not."

"Of course I am." Zemouregal's cold tone was quite at odds with what he was saying. "I'm behind you all the way. I always have been."

"I know you have," Zamorak said. "And usually, you're a bit more enthusiastic about it."

Zemouregal was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Have you ever wanted something and not been able to have it?"

"Once or twice," Zamorak replied, wondering where the hell this new strain of conversation was going.

"Now imagine that you've wanted that same thing for centuries," Zemouregal continued, "but it just never happens."

Zamorak raised his eyebrows. "Okay…"

"And then, the reason it isn't happening shows up and starts asking you 'what's up'. Put yourself in that position for a moment, and then maybe stop to admire the fact that I haven't punched you in the face yet."

Zamorak was thoroughly baffled, but that didn't stop him from reacting to a threat. "Go ahead," he said, "punch me. See what happens. I promise you won't enjoy it."

Zemouregal's jaw tightened, and he turned away. "Sharathteerk will bring you your snacks."

Zamorak watched the necromancer storm down the hallway. Obviously Zemouregal was worked up about something, but Zamorak couldn't figure out what it was that he was supposed to have taken from him.

Scowling, Zamorak headed back to the planning room, rather ticked off that he couldn't challenge Zemouregal to some kind of duel without compromising one of his strongest allies.

_When this is all over,_ Zamorak thought sourly, _I'm going to punch _him_ in the face._

The mental image of Zemouregal's hypothetical broken nose was enough to keep his confusion at bay for a couple of minutes, but then it was back and nagging him again.

What did Zemouregal want so badly?

Maybe Enakhra would know. She was perceptive. Next time he got the chance, he would ask her.

Until then, he had more important things to think about.

* * *

**A/N: Again, sorry about the wait. Review anyway? (I hate to be annoyingly feedback-oriented, but the reviews kind of dropped off to almost nothing on the last couple chapters and I'm slightly worried that for some reason I lost all of my readers...)**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**A/N: Less than a month. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

The oppressive green haze of the Morytanian swamp was almost a relief to Sliske's eyes after all of the caves and rocks and snow he had been subjected to over the last few days. He wasn't entirely sure why he had returned to the six mounds of dirt that were now before him, because he certainly hadn't needed to. Perhaps he just wanted a suitably familiar and depressing location in which to stew irately about the fact that _Enakhra_ had managed to out-guile him.

She should never have learned his secret. He should never have let her. He should have known that she was observant enough to notice even small reactions.

He should have gotten ahold of himself, damn it!

The knowledge that someone out there now had the power to manipulate him was like having needles driven into his feet _and then walking on them._ The fact that it was a someone who would gladly utilize that power was like a constant fear that those needles might suddenly catch fire.

The fact that said someone now also had the Staff of Armadyl, well… He didn't have an appropriately painful analogy for that.

He had to wonder if this blasted secret was actually worth the dominance that it had over him.

"There you are. You couldn't have come back to Senntisten and saved me from encountering Lucien by myself?"

Sliske turned to see Azzanadra walking through the stone arch toward him.

"What?" he asked flatly.

"Never mind," Azzanadra said. "I need to talk to you. I've got an idea."

Sliske arched one eyebrow. "You? An idea? Has the moon crashed into the sun?"

Azzanadra scowled. "Look, the Ritual is going to happen before the two weeks are up. I think our best bet is to make that as beneficial for us as we can."

"Obviously."

"We need to stop the Zamorakians from getting anywhere near the Ritual site," Azzanadra said, ignoring Sliske's barbed remark. "I have a couple of plans already, but I need you to do something."

Sliske said nothing, just stared coolly at the other Mahjarrat and waited for him to spit it out.

After a dramatic pause, he did.

A rather evil smile made its way slowly onto Sliske's face.

"It would be my pleasure," he said.

* * *

All of the Mahjarrat felt it — it was as though a long-unused light had just flared back into being in each of their minds.

Enakhra, realizing — as they all did — what it meant, quickly made her way to the planning room.

"Oh, good," Zamorak said as soon as she entered. "Exactly the face I wanted to see."

Enakhra struggled to keep a straight face at that comment. "What are your thoughts?"

He threw his hands into the air. "I have no idea. It doesn't make any sense to me. He said I'm stopping him from getting something. What does that even mean?"

"Excuse me?" Enakhra said, frowning. "I was talking about the fact that Kharshai is apparently back with the living. What are you talking about?"

Zamorak ceased his troubled pacing. "Ah. Well… Zemouregal just told me that I'm stopping him from getting something that he's wanted for centuries, and then he threatened to punch me. In the face."

Her eyes widened. "He said what?"

"Exactly!" Zamorak said, both hands falling forward until his palms faced the ceiling. "I don't suppose you know what that's about?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Centuries?" she finally asked. "He said _centuries_?"

"Yes," he said. "So?"

She didn't think she wanted to stay on this topic of conversation any longer than was necessary. It was making her feel very strange. "I think that we should contact Kharshai as soon as possible. I'm certain that the Zarosians will be doing the same."

His eyes narrowed. "You're right, of course. I think you should do it. You're very convincing. But first, I want you to answer my question. It's driving me nuts."

She scowled. "Fine. It's me."

"It's you?" he repeated. "What?"

She glared at him.

"Oh!" he said. "It's you!" He paused for a long moment. "Hang on, it's you? How…?"

She had no desire to finish the conversation, and quickly called up a teleport.

* * *

Enakhra was pleased to find that she had managed to beat the Zarosians to the punch. Kharshai wasn't alone, but the other person in the room was a rather insignificant-looking human, so she paid them no heed.

"Ah, Enakhra," Kharshai said pleasantly. "Hello."

"Kharshai," she returned. "It's been a while."

"Indeed," he said. "Now, shall we skip the pleasantries and get to why you're really here?"

She shrugged. "As you wish. Zaros has returned, and has issued Zamorak a challenge. In less than a fortnight, they will meet for battle. A rematch of the Second Age, you might say. If Zaros wins—"

"Then what?" Kharshai interrupted. "Under Zaros's reign, civilizations thrived. When Zamorak gained power, chaos erupted and Forinthry burned."

"Yes, but do you _remember_ Zaros's reign?" she replied heatedly. "It may have looked nice from the outside, but he kept everyone on leashes! Even those who were high in his ranks were only there so he could keep an eye on them! Do you want that again?"

"Frankly," Kharshai said, "I would prefer to see neither of them win. This world is better off now than it was under either of them. This battle should not even happe—"

He was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Akthanakos.

"Hello, Akthanakos," Enakhra said, smirking. "Slower than ever, I see."

The newcomer turned to her, his expression falling. "Oh. Enakhra. What are you doing here?"

She was quite certain that he already knew.

"She is here for exactly the same reason that I am sure you are," Kharshai said. "You both wish to persuade me to join your side in the upcoming conflict. And in response to both of you, I say no. I will not join this senseless bloodbath. Now leave, before I force you to."

Enakhra scowled. "This is larger than you. Eventually, you'll be drawn in, and it'll be on your own head when you have no allies."

Kharshai pointed aggressively at the door, which was mostly an empty gesture since neither of them actually needed to use it. "Go!"

With one final glare, Enakhra left.

As disappointing as it was that she hadn't managed to gain his loyalty, at least she could console herself with the knowledge that the Zarosians hadn't either.

That was something.

* * *

**A/N: That last section contains bits of dialogue from Koschei's Troubles, so obviously that's not mine. All rights go to JaGex there.**

**Anyway... Thoughts?**


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**A/N: So I almost made this the first chapter of Shadows to have no beginning author's note, but then, well... I didn't.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Zamorak stood at the large wooden table in Zemouregal's planning room, propping himself up with his hands splayed on the table's top. He was trying to strategize, he really, honestly was. He just couldn't _focus_ on anything.

He could put two and two together as well as the next person, but this time it was coming out three and a half and he thought he may as well be driving nails into his skull for all the progress he was making.

Zemouregal had said… And then _Enakhra_ had said… Which meant…

He gave his head a firm shake as though trying to dissuade a particularly persistent fly. He had a battle to plan. He shouldn't be wasting time on this ridiculous nonsense.

And yet…

With a growl of frustration, he slammed his palms down onto the table.

"Troubles, Zamorak?" a voice asked from the doorway.

He looked up, startled. Kharshai was standing there, looking far more composed than Zamorak would have expected from someone who had basically just broken a centuries-long fugue.

"No," Zamorak replied coolly, crossing his arms and pretending that his palms weren't stinging from their impact with the tabletop. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to reason with you," Kharshai said, walking forward until he was standing across the table from Zamorak. "It seems as though there is a war in the making."

Zamorak shrugged. "I don't know that I'd call it a _war_, per se."

"It matters little what you call it," Kharshai said. "It matters only that this conflict has the potential to destroy everything that we have built."

"What are you talking about?" Zamorak asked. "We haven't built anything."

Kharshai leaned forward earnestly. "We have built _lives_, Zamorak. We have _survived_. Our race is dying faster than we are breeding. We must stop this senseless fighting before it is too late and we have ruined what little hope we have left."

"We haven't got any hope," Zamorak said flatly. "Enakhra's the only female left, and trust me, I don't think she's planning to 'breed' any time soon."

"Then she must be convinced as well. Our race's survival is relying on our strength and wisdom. We cannot fail."

"Look," Zamorak said irritatedly, walking around the table toward the other Mahjarrat, "I'm not the one who started this. Even if I wanted to throw in the towel and make peace, which I don't, this was all Zaros's idea. He's the one you need to go… _reprimand_."

Even the unflappable Kharshai couldn't look confident about facing down Zaros. His expression turned to hopelessness, and he lowered his head in defeat.

"I see," he said. "That is… very unfortunate." He raised his head back up to meet Zamorak's gaze, and despite his despair it looked as though his fire had not gone out. "It seems that I will simply have to find another means of stopping this battle from occurring. Good day."

Within a second of speaking his last word, he had teleported away and was gone.

Zamorak frowned.

That did not bode well.

* * *

Enakhra found Zemouregal poring over a large book of maps, scowling and muttering to himself. She stopped before fully entering the room. If he was already in a bad mood, perhaps now wasn't the best time for her to request anything of him.

Oh well.

She walked into the room with an unwavering stride, her chin level and her eyes hard.

Zemouregal looked up. Seeing her determined posture, his scowl deepened.

"I suppose you want something," he said warily.

She resisted the urge to cross her arms. Best not to be confrontational. "You could say that."

He slammed the book shut without marking his page and walked over to stand a few feet in front of her. He crossed his own arms, apparently not feeling as much of a need to be friendly as she had. He said nothing, just waited for her to speak.

"On my mission to retrieve the Staff," she said, "I ended up overhearing a conversation between Lucien and his daughter."

"Moia," Zemouregal stated. "What of her?"

"He treats her terribly," Enakhra said. "She's barely more than a servant to him, and an incompetent one at that. In his eyes, at least. I think that we may have an opportunity here."

His eyes narrowed. "You're not honestly suggesting what you seem to be suggesting, are you?"

"Yes," she said, "I am."

"That's ridiculous," he said, shaking his head. She could see that it wasn't so much of a negative gesture as it was an expression of simple incredulity.

"Why?" she asked insistently. "She could be useful to us, and it seems to me that getting her to betray Lucien would not be all that difficult."

His skeptical expression shifted slightly when she said 'betray Lucien', and she decided to use that.

"Don't look at it as though we're gaining something," she told him, smiling slightly. "Isn't it really more about the fact that Lucien is _losing_ something?"

He was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Sliske stepped out of the Shadow Realm just behind Azzanadra, and the stones beneath his feet shifted back to their usual blue and yellow coloring. Azzanadra seemed completely unaware that anything had changed, and, smiling with a grim sort of humor, Sliske reached out to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

Azzanadra jumped, whirled around in mild panic, and blasted Sliske full in the face with a spray of ice.

"Oh," he said, lowering his arms. "It's you."

Sliske just looked at him coldly, then shook his head to dislodge the few lingering ice crystals from his skin.

"Yes, it's me," Sliske said flatly. "If I might suggest looking before you shoot…"

Azzanadra didn't look remotely apologetic. "Don't sneak up on people and maybe that wouldn't happen." He paused, then frowned. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off doing… other things?"

"I was," Sliske replied.

"So… is it done?"

"No."

A few moments passed, but Sliske did not continue.

"Right, so again," Azzanadra said, looking frustrated now, "what are you doing here?"

"I require your…" Sliske paused, his face twisting slightly. "…assistance."

A smug grin spread across Azzanadra's face. "Okay. What do you need?"

Sliske told him.

Azzanadra's smile dropped.

"What?" he said. "Why? What has that got to do with—"

Sliske silenced him with a look. "I know what I am doing. It is all part of the plan. Don't argue with me."

"_This_ is part of the plan?" Azzanadra asked in disbelief. "_The _plan? _My_ plan?"

"Yes," Sliske said tightly, his already small amount of patience shrinking further. "We must go now, or the window of opportunity will pass."

Azzanadra stared at him suspiciously for a long moment, then shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: As always, reviews are much appreciated. :)**


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Zemouregal's arms were crossed again, and it was pissing Enakhra off. She had told him before they had arrived that he would only be useful if he was friendly and cooperative. She probably should have known that was just a bit too much to ask, but she had still hoped that he would_ try_.

Moia was standing in front of them, her eyes slightly narrowed and her mouth set in a suspicious frown. "You said you wanted to talk. This silence seems counterproductive."

Enakhra shot one glare in Zemouregal's direction before turning her attention back to the half-breed. "I'm curious… Why do you continue to submit to Lucien's wishes?"

Moia's frown deepened. "He is my father. Without loyalty to our kin, what are we?"

Zemouregal scoffed, and Enakhra reigned in her growing desire to soundly smack him.

"Loyalty should be reciprocated," Enakhra said, "or at the very least, appreciated. There is power within your reach, Moia. Don't let him hold you back." She tried use some form of body language to convey to Zemouregal that _this was where he came in_.

Apparently, it worked.

"You have… potential," Zemouregal said begrudgingly, although he sounded honest enough. "Lucien holds you in contempt."

"You think that I don't realize that?" Moia asked. "Of course he does! I'm a half-breed. You hold me in contempt as well, Zemouregal."

He didn't deny that, and Enakhra inwardly sighed. This wasn't working.

"Just come back with us," she said, keeping her tone just above pleading. "If you give your support to Zamorak, he will make sure that it's appreciated. Loyalty shouldn't be something that's forced on you, it should be earned."

"Then earn mine," Moia said, and shut the Chaos Temple's door in their faces.

* * *

Azzanadra looked warily at the diamond resting in Sliske's palm. "What is _that_ for?"

"You must be aware of the magical capabilities these possess," Sliske said. "I mean, of anyone—"

"Yes," Azzanadra interrupted, "I know what they do. I still don't entirely understand this plan of yours."

Sliske shrugged. "There's no reason that you should. All I need is a little bit of extra power. I don't require any extra thinking to be done, most certainly not from you."

Azzanadra scowled.

Sliske held the diamond out, clearly expecting Azzanadra to take it. Azzanadra did not.

"You hold onto it," he said, the corners of his mouth turning down as he looked at the small gem.

"I think not." Sliske continued to hold his hand toward Azzanadra. "I have more important things to be doing."

When Azzanadra still didn't move, Sliske rolled his eyes and threw the gem at Azzanadra's face. Instinctively, the other Mahjarrat caught it.

"It isn't going to do anything without being activated," Sliske said. "Stop being so ridiculously paranoid."

Azzanadra couldn't manage to look anything less than thoroughly uncomfortable about holding the diamond, but he didn't drop it or throw it back. Some things were just necessary.

_For Zaros,_ he thought, while trying to grip the diamond as loosely as possible.

"I will warn you," Sliske said, "that this is all going to look incredibly stupid. However, as we leave the Shadow Realm, I'll need to you kneel between myself and the target and hold the diamond above your head."

Azzanadra stared at him.

"As I said, that was a warning." Sliske held up his hands in preparation to shift them out of the Shadow Realm. His expression twisted into a small smirk. "Now kneel."

One glare and much resentment later, Azzanadra knelt.

A moment later, they were back in Gielinor.

* * *

"That went well," Zemouregal said, his voice laced with the inevitable sarcasm. "I have to say, that was the worst recruitment attempt I've ever seen. 'There is power within your reach'?"

"Shut up." Enakhra's mood was fouling further with every moment that passed. She had failed, both herself and Zamorak. "You weren't any better. I told you to be friendly toward her. She needs someone to think that she's worth it, as Lucien so clearly does not. What did you do? You crossed your arms and laughed at her. That was very helpful, thank you."

"Don't blame this on me," Zemouregal returned heatedly. "This was your insane idea, not mine."

"It wasn't _insane_! It would have worked, if you had—"

"If _we_ had," Zemouregal corrected. "I wasn't the only one there."

"No, but you were the problem! Why did I even bother bringing you?"

"Good question," he said. "Why did you?"

"Because…"

For no real reason at all, Enakhra suddenly tensed. She felt an eerie feeling creep along her back.

"Well?" Zemouregal asked, still waiting for an answer.

She just shook her head and glanced around, hoping something in the landscape would affirm her strange reaction. The Chaos Temple that housed the entrance to Lucien's camp stood in front of them. Behind them was only Wilderness, with the occasional rock formation scattered about.

And then there were two Mahjarrat.

Enakhra only had time to think, _Is Azzanadra kneeling?_ before instinct took over and she leapt out of the way. She watched from her position on the ground as Zemouregal, who had apparently not had the same warning that she had, was caught in the surge of magic that Sliske was channeling through the diamond in Azzanadra's hands.

She didn't know what was happening, and her overly prominent sense of self-preservation kicked in before she could even start to figure it out.

She teleported away, leaving Zemouregal behind.

* * *

**A/N: I realized after I finished writing that this chapter is a tad shorter than normal. Sorry. However, it's also only been two weeks since the last chapter. I don't suppose that makes up for it?**


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**A/N: So in an attempt to make up for both the long wait and the awkward brevity of the last chapter, this chapter is nearly twice as long. Does that save me from being lynched? I do hope so.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The planning room had been entirely silent and undisturbed since Kharshai had left nearly five hours ago. Zamorak wasn't necessarily enjoying the silence, but it certainly was conducive to thinking.

When the door slammed open and Enakhra all but fell into the room, Zamorak knew immediately that his thinking time was over. He jumped up and moved quickly across the room to stand next to her.

"What happened?" he asked.

She didn't look at him, just brushed past him to collapse into one of the chairs that sat near the table.

That was… odd.

"Enakhra." He turned to face her, his tone sharp. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said tersely. "I… I think they captured him. Trapped him, maybe. He could be…"

Zamorak waited for her to elaborate, or at to least finish her sentence, but neither happened.

"Who are you talking about?" he asked. "Where have you been?"

She took in a deep breath, which would have been strange enough under normal circumstances and only added to his disconcertion now. "I asked Zemouregal to go with me to find Moia. I thought maybe he could help me recruit her. I don't know why, I guess because they're related. It didn't work."

"Okay," Zamorak said, his brow rising. So Enakhra had wanted to recruit Moia. Interesting. "That doesn't explain anything."

She looked at him long enough to glare at him, before returning her attention to her own hands. "After we… failed…" She spat out the word like it was poisonous. "…Sliske and Azzanadra showed up and did… something. I don't know what it was, but I think Azzanadra might have been holding a diamond so I assume that it was soul magic of some kind. I got out of the way, but… they caught Zemouregal. I left before I saw what happened."

Zamorak just stood there for a long moment, processing what she had said.

"So you're telling me," he said finally, "that the Zarosians have _captured_ Zemouregal. He could be dead for all we know."

Enakhra flinched. "No. We would know if he was dead."

Well, okay, that was true enough.

He ran a hand over his face. "Okay. Great. We're still nearly two weeks away and we've already lost a main player. That's brilliant."

"Hey!" Enakhra said heatedly. "He's not lost. We just have to figure out how to get him back."

Zamorak shook his head. "No. Too risky. I can't lose anyone else."

Enakhra's chair clattered to the floor as she stood up abruptly, fire in her eyes. "You're telling me that you're just going to _leave him there_?"

He took an involuntary step backward, shocked by the force of her reaction. Enakhra had always been behind him one hundred percent, she had always done what he asked of her, and she had _never_ argued with him.

There was a reason that he was in charge. Maybe she had forgotten that in his absence, but it was about time she remembered. He stepped forward, regaining his lost ground and then some.

"Yes," he told her sharply. "I am going to leave him there. We don't know where he is and we don't know what the Zarosians have done to keep him there. I will not lead any of my people into a trap just to recover _one_ person. There is too much riding on this."

"I realize that," Enakhra said, "but he's better with magic than Khazard, he's got more resources than I do, and he's smarter than Hazeel. He's one of your best assets. You can't just leave him to die!"

"I can," Zamorak said, "and I will. I don't like it either, but until a better option presents itself this is how it's going to be. Understood?"

She stood there, her posture stiff and her jaw tight, until finally she nodded once. "Understood."

Then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

He stared after her for a long moment, wondering what had happened to the Mahjarrat who had fallen over herself again and again in an attempt to do anything he asked. It would seem that she had found something she cared about more than making him happy.

That actually bothered him a bit.

* * *

Enakhra learned the meaning of the term "blind rage" when she abruptly ran into another Mahjarrat after her furious exit from the planning room.

Once she had righted herself, she looked up to see Khazard looking at her in confusion.

"Enakhra?" he asked.

"Yes," she said tersely. Before he could say anything to the contrary, she continued, "I'm fine."

He only frowned at her.

She ignored him, realizing that she was talking to _Khazard_. This was perfect! After all, what was a little betrayal between Mahjarrat?

"Khazard," she began slowly, "would you like to know who your father is?"

* * *

Zemouregal was still conscious, unfortunately. He couldn't move in the slightest, but he was still witness to the incredibly inane argument that Sliske and Azzanadra were having in front of his strange little prison.

"It was my plan!" Azzanadra was saying heatedly. "I should be the one to tell him."

"It was not your plan," Sliske returned. "You did not _have_ a plan. You had an idea, and I did the work to turn it into a plan."

They had been making the same points at each other for nearly five minutes now, which was frankly a little much for Zemouregal to take.

"Why do you care?" Azzanadra asked, his arms crossed. "Does it even _matter_?"

"Absolutely not," Sliske said.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Fine," Azzanadra said, and left.

Sliske smirked, then turned to Zemouregal. "Are you enjoying your stay?"

Zemouregal did his best to glare at the other Mahjarrat, but he was fairly certain the effort was futile.

"Excellent," Sliske said. "I'm afraid your stay may be rather short, however. I'm sure Zaros will want to move you to a less awkward location. Who knows, he may even decide that we have no use for you. That would be interesting."

Zemouregal couldn't imagine any scenario in which he would think that was 'interesting', but it wasn't like he could say anything on the matter. He just hoped Sliske wasn't planning to have a one-sided conversation with him until Azzanadra got back.

He was saved from that unpleasant fate by the sudden arrival of another Mahjarrat. Although he had to admit that if this was the rescue team, it was an incredibly crappy one.

Strangely, Sliske seemed to be somewhat intimidated by the new arrival. But when he spoke, his tone was calm and his stiff posture was the only thing to give away his discomfiture.

"Khazard," he said coolly.

"Sliske," Khazard replied. His eyes were blazing with something unidentifiable, and Zemouregal wondered what the hell was going on. His throat was practically burning with all of the questions that he couldn't ask.

"What are you doing here?" Sliske asked. "Come to rescue your teammate? I would have brought more firepower, myself, but then I always have been slightly more intelligent than the rest of you."

"I don't care about him." Khazard offered a vague motion toward the suspension cage, and Zemouregal had to admit that he was rather offended by the dismissal. "I have come to pick a bone with _you_."

Sliske's jaw tightened. "Have you."

"Enakhra just informed me of a rather interesting piece of information," Khazard said. "She told me something that I think I maybe should have already known, and don't even say that you don't know what I'm talking about."

_Oh, hell,_ Zemouregal thought, his curiosity yanking brutally at its short chain. _Just spit it out._

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," Sliske said, deadpan.

Khazard's teeth made an audible click as his jaw snapped shut.

Sliske smiled tightly.

"You," Khazard growled, "are…" His fists clenched and his jaw worked, and Zemouregal wanted badly to just choke the information out of him. "You…"

Sliske's brows rose. "Your eloquence is astonishing."

"You are my father!" Khazard roared. "You're my father, and you never told me!"

_What._

Interestingly, the first thought in Zemouregal's mind was that apparently Enakhra had known. She must have loved digging up that bit of dirt. He wondered how long she had been sitting on it.

Then he remembered how she had come back bearing the Staff and looking mysteriously smug. Now it kind of made sense. Blackmail was definitely her style.

"I don't see why it matters," Sliske said shortly. "What would have changed?"

Khazard just stared at him.

Then he opened his mouth, and closed it again, and stared some more.

Sliske crossed his arms. "If you're going to speak, do so. If not, you may as well leave."

"I…" Khazard straightened. "I'm not leaving."

Zemouregal was certain there was more to that sentence than a comment about physical movement. He had always thought that the young Mahjarrat had trouble sticking with any kind of ideals, and it seemed Khazard was now properly living up to that opinion. Which was not a good sign for the rest of the Zamorakians.

Sliske sighed. "Fine. Just don't get in my way."

Whatever Khazard may have said in reply to that was lost to Zemouregal, whose attention had shifted to the dark shape that seemed to be moving quickly up to him from the opposite side. He couldn't quite make out what it was until it stopped just beside him and the shadows fell away to reveal Enakhra.

And in her right hand was the Staff of Armadyl. There was no way that Zamorak had let her take the Staff and come on a rescue mission by herself. Which meant that she had probably either not told him or had actually defied him.

Zemouregal wished that he could express his intense gratitude at that moment, but the cage still held him, trapped in immobility.

Enakhra frowned at the problem in front of her, then lifted the Staff. It seemed that she was going to stab the cage with the Staff, but before she had the chance, a thick whip of shadows threw her backward.

Zemouregal looked toward the origin of the shadows and saw that Sliske had noticed Enakhra's approach.

"You brought the Staff?" he asked, watching her scramble back to her feet. "How forward of you. Shall we see if you have what it takes to wield it?"

Zemouregal had a moment of fear, and was forced to remind himself that she was armed with enough power to strike down a god.

She wasn't going to lose.

* * *

**A/N: I do always so look forward to reviews. :)**


	30. Chapter Thirty

**A/N: Eleven days. I'm on fire!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

The fortress was very empty, and Enakhra was nowhere to be found.

Both of these things were troubling Zamorak. He had wanted to check in on Enakhra after their encounter earlier, but now it seemed that he might be the only thing in the fortress that was still breathing. Where was everyone?

The creak and slam of a door echoed against the stone walls. He turned toward the sound, muttering under his breath. It was about time.

The Mahjarrat standing in the front hall was sadly not one of the ones he had been trying to find.

"Hazeel," he said. Honestly, he had just about forgotten that Hazeel was even supposed to show up. "Took you long enough."

Hazeel dropped what looked suspiciously like a duffel bag to the floor with a thunk. "My apologies. I had things to attend to."

"Had to pack for summer camp?" Zamorak asked sardonically.

"You said battle," Hazeel replied. "I brought weapons. Where is everyone?"

Zamorak shrugged. "I don't know. Zemouregal was captured by the Zarosians, so obviously he wouldn't be here, but now Khazard and Enakhra are gone. I think Enakhra may have gone after Zemouregal even though I told her not to, but Khazard really should be here."

Hazeel looked at him blankly. "Zemouregal's been captured?"

"Yes," Zamorak replied, "that _is_ what I just said."

"How?"

"Enakhra thought soul magic." Zamorak bumped his foot against a barrel that was standing next to him, and felt a rather juvenile sense of pleasure when it fell over. "All I really know is that Sliske and Azzanadra were involved."

"Why would Enakhra go after Zemouregal?" Hazeel asked, his expression thoroughly confused. "I thought she hated him?"

"Things change, apparently."

Hazeel was silent for a moment, although whether he was thinking or just staring was impossible to tell. Finally, he said, "So what are you going to do?"

Trust him to go straight to the point, no nuance considered. Honestly, that was exactly why Zamorak kept him around.

"I don't know," Zamorak said. He wanted to knock over another barrel, but there wasn't one near enough. "I was going to do it right, be smart about it. But I guess Enakhra decided that if I wasn't going to do it _right now_, she'd better go do it herself. Now I think I might not have time to be smart."

"Do we have an army?" Hazeel asked. He leaned down to open his bag as he spoke. "Troops, or warriors?"

"No," Zamorak growled. "They were all so worried about politics and individuals that no one actually gathered anyone. I didn't press the issue because I thought we still had plenty of time. Although…" He paused, realizing he had been missing someone the whole time. "Bill. He went to go get troops of some sort, I think. And Saradomin disappeared somewhere, so he might have gotten something together."

Hazeel straightened up so quickly that Zamorak was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "_Saradomin_?"

"Oh. Yeah. He decided defeating Zaros was worth associating with us. He still has a bunch of followers around, so I figured it was pragmatic to join forces."

There was a long pause. Then Hazeel shrugged and leaned back down toward his bag. He came up with a very large mace in his hand. "I'll go get Bilrach."

"He's on our side, remember?" Zamorak said, eyeing the weapon.

"Yes," Hazeel said, "but you never know when you're going to need a big mace."

Zamorak grinned. "Can't argue with that."

A few moments later, Hazeel had teleported away. Zamorak resumed wandering through the fortress, trying to decide if he should go find Saradomin or try to track down Enakhra. His decision was made for him when he pushed open a door and saw that something rather important was missing from the room behind it.

Enakhra had taken the Staff.

* * *

The Staff glimmered in Enakhra's hand as she stood. In front of her, Sliske's casual stance conveyed none of the fear she thought he should be feeling. He was simply standing there, waiting for her to make the first move, and she hated how much that unnerved her.

She took a step to the left, testing. He shifted smoothly, just enough to remain between her and Zemouregal.

So that's how it was going to be.

"Here I thought I was in for a fight," Sliske said. His gaze was following her every movement, revealing the alertness that his posture hadn't. "You've always been such a tease. It's hardly a wonder that everyone has given up on you."

She knew that his words were meant only to put her off-balance, but even with that knowledge they still very nearly did.

_Not everyone, _she told herself firmly. Her eyes moved past Sliske for a moment. _Not Zemouregal. Not even when I told him to._

Sliske used people against themselves. That was just how he operated. The key, she realized, was simply to not act like herself.

Before she had time to second-guess her strategy, Enakhra rushed forward. No darting around, no bursts of magic to test the battlefield, and no hesitation.

She was going to stab the bastard.

Sliske was only surprised for a moment and he recovered quickly, but that tiny moment of hesitation was just enough. Enakhra swung the Staff in an upward arc, catching Sliske under the chin. He skidded backward.

She had to grin at the fury in his gaze. "Trust me," she said, "this will be quite the fight."

Continuing her strategy of offense, she moved forward again. She swung sideways this time. _Avoid predictability._

He sidestepped the blow and tossed a burst of shadow magic at her face. One swipe of the Staff knocked it easily aside.

She could get used to this.

Shouldn't Khazard have been stepping in?

As it turned out, knocking aside the shadow magic hadn't been enough. The residual tendrils were expanding to create a haze of shadow around her. She stood very still as her visibility diminished. What to do…

Acting on a sudden hunch, she channeled a burst of indistinct magic through the Staff. It exploded outward. The shadows disintegrated on contact, leaving only a few vague wisps behind. Interestingly, the magic seemed to have no physical power and washed over Sliske with no effect. Could the Staff's power be guided by intent?

Where was Khazard? He was supposed to be helping, damn it!

Looking around once the shadowy haze had cleared, Enakhra panicked for a moment. Where had Sliske gone?

She caught movement in her peripheral and realized that he was very nearly behind her. Whirling just in time, she had a split-second of warning. Heedless of the repercussions, she threw herself to the ground. His attack sailed harmlessly over her head.

She had conceded whatever higher ground might have possessed, but maybe she could use this position. She lunged forward, staying low, and swung the Staff at Sliske's legs.

He went down… and vanished.

"Damn it," she hissed, standing. Curse his mastery of the Shadow Realm.

She turned slowly on the spot, alert and waiting. If he was simply shrouding himself, then he could still see her and would pop back out in whatever location would give him the best advantage. She held the Staff at the ready while she tried to figure out where that would be.

Just as she was about to turn a one-eighty, someone grabbed her arms from behind. As she struggled, she began to think that the grip was too strong to be Sliske.

Her thought was confirmed when Sliske appeared in front of her, an absolutely insufferable smirk on his face. "Surprise."

It seemed that she had drastically misjudged Khazard. Despair began to descend on her as her plan crumbled, and she did the only thing that made sense in that moment.

She threw off one of Khazard's hands just long enough to give her the right leverage, and hurled the Staff of Armadyl at the suspension cage. The Staff crackled with energy as the two magics collided, bright yellow light bursting from the connection in rays.

The light faded slowly, and both the Staff and Zemouregal dropped to the ground. Relief washed over her.

Sliske walked over, and her relief receded sharply when she realized that Zemouregal was far too disoriented to do anything against him. She struggled viciously against Khazard's hold, with no success.

She could do no more than watch as Sliske leaned down and picked up the Staff. He turned back to her with a twisted smile.

"Checkmate," he said.

* * *

**A/N: I wrote this fight scene while listening to a Celldweller album. I don't think it changed anything in the end result, but it was fun and felt epic. Good fight scene music.**

**Enjoy that random fact of the day. :)**


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**A/N: This chapter took me a rather long time, and for that I'm sorry. But it was kind of difficult and I had to kind of build up the gusto to write it. You'll see why, I'm sure.**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One**

If Azzanadra had learned anything from this convoluted, whacked out escapade, it was that waiting around for things really sucked. He had been standing in this temple for ages now. Perhaps it would have been more proactive to go find Zaros himself, but Zaros hadn't at any point said where he was going and Azzanadra really couldn't be bothered. So now he was just standing around, hoping that his Lord would return at some point.

Hopefully sooner, rather than later.

He counted the stones in the floor's decorative brickwork seventeen times, arriving at a different number each time. He had finally gotten the same total five times in a row and was looking around for something else to count when a pale purple light began to infuse the room, indicating Zaros's imminent arrival.

Once he had properly materialized, Zaros's first words to Azzanadra were, "What are you doing here? You are supposed to be out gathering followers for my cause, are you not?"

That wasn't quite the way Azzanadra had wanted to start the conversation.

"I've come back to report some progress," he said. He didn't really want to get into the fact that he hadn't really gathered that many people at all. "Sliske and I have—"

"Sliske?" Zaros asked. "You are working with Sliske now?"

Zaros sounded displeased with the idea, which was unexpected.

"It was a matter of convenience," Azzanadra said, attempting to keep his voice level. Zaros's reaction had caused him confusion and some annoyance. "He had already gathered his wights and I had a use for him. Was there something else you wanted him to do?"

"No," Zaros said flatly. "Continue."

Azzanadra had no idea what to do with _that_, so he continued.

"Sliske and I have captured Zemouregal."

It was generally difficult to read Zaros's expressions, but Azzanadra was fairly sure that he was now rather shocked.

"_Excuse me?_"

Yes, that was shock.

Azzanadra was even more unsure of what to do with that.

"We've… captured Zemouregal?" he said again. He hoped against all reason that Zaros simply hadn't heard him correctly, because otherwise it would seem that he had made a grave error.

"_Why_ would you do _that_?" Zaros asked. Was that bafflement? Anger? Disappointment?

This wasn't going at all as Azzanadra had anticipated, and he was beginning to feel a chill of anxiety down his spine. He had miscalculated. He had screwed up. His future did not look bright.

"The Ritual is coming up," he explained. "I thought… Isn't it best to keep the Zamorakians weak? If they can't attend…"

Zaros was having none of that.

"I gave them a fortnight," Zaros said coldly. "You have sullied my promise, and made a fool of me."

Azzanadra's chest might have suddenly collapsed for all the air he was getting. "I am sorry, My Lord," he managed. "I didn't… I wasn't aware that this would—"

"The situation is still salvageable," Zaros interrupted. "You will free Zemouregal, and I will inform Zamorak of the mistake that had been made. Perhaps we can renew our temporary truce. I will be sure to enforce it more carefully this time."

Azzanadra bowed his head, wishing fervently that he had some power over time. How could he have misjudged the situation _this badly_? He had been sure that any attempt to hinder the opposition would be well received — after all, wasn't the point of this whole thing to win? But it seemed that Zaros was determined to make it a properly fair fight.

Azzanadra was beginning to feel that he didn't know his Lord nearly as well as he thought he had. The world had changed drastically during Azzanadra's long absence, but he never would have thought that Zaros would have been included in that change. Zaros was constant. Or he had been.

It was all far too much for Azzanadra to process just then, and he followed Zaros out of the temple with low spirits and a whirling mind.

* * *

Had he possessed a chair or the ability to sit down, Zemouregal would have been on the edge of his seat. He was sure that he had never in his life been this anxious about the outcome of a battle. His and Enakhra's fates were both on the line, and he was powerless to affect anything that was happening in front of him. This helpless immobility was something he never wanted to feel again.

At Sliske's pronouncement that everyone had "given up on her", Enakhra's gaze moved up and caught Zemouregal's. He had no idea what she was thinking but it must have helped, because a moment later her eyes hardened with determination and she rushed at Sliske.

Good on her.

Zemouregal noticed that Khazard was just standing off to the side, his face contorted into some strange mix of confusion, indecision, and a lingering amount of surprise that implied he was still coming to terms with his new situation. At least he hadn't done anything stupid yet. Considering the conversation that Zemouregal had witnessed before Enakhra's arrival, he had been worried.

His attention shifted back to the ongoing fight when Sliske used his shadow trick to sneak up behind Enakhra. Every atom in Zemouregal's body made a sudden, intense, and utterly fruitless attempt to break free. He wanted to shout, "Behind you!" or something equally annoying and distracting. But it was probably in Enakhra's favor that he couldn't, and she managed to nimbly fend Sliske off at the last moment.

She had the upper hand for barely a millisecond before Sliske disappeared again. Zemouregal was just as intent on finding him as Enakhra was, and so was almost as surprised as she was when Khazard stepped up and grabbed her from behind. Evidently he had overcome his crippling indecision.

Zemouregal quite wished that he hadn't.

He watched the three of them avidly, until Enakhra suddenly flung the Staff in his direction.

The cage burst apart, and Zemouregal felt as though he had been released from a tank of molasses. The cool air of the Wilderness washed over him as he fell to the ground, and he thought he had never felt anything quite as freeing.

On the other hand, his limbs felt like rubber and he was certain that his head was going to implode. The Staff was lying not three feet away from him, and a massive wave of vertigo prevented him from doing anything to retrieve it. He tried to at least sit up, but his brain seemed convinced that he was attempting to launch himself into the ether and shoved him back toward the dirt.

As he lay there, disoriented and battling his own limbs, Sliske walked over and calmly picked up the Staff.

"Checkmate," he said.

Zemouregal could have punched him, the smug bastard.

"What now?" Khazard asked. "Do you have another diamond or… something?"

"No," Sliske replied, moving back toward them. "No more diamonds. No more traps. Let's move on, shall we?"

For some reason, that last sentence sounded incredibly ominous.

"What does _that_ mean?" Enakhra asked suspiciously, her thoughts clearly in a similar place.

"It means," Sliske said, "that I'm not going to trap you."

"Oh really," Enakhra said flatly. "I suppose that's why you've got your new lackey holding me here."

"I'm not a lackey," Khazard protested, annoyed. "I'm his…"

"Son?" Sliske finished. He imbued the word with amused disdain, but Khazard still seemed ridiculously relieved that he didn't have to say it himself.

"Yeah," he said. "That."

There was an awkward silence.

The silence stretched on, somehow gaining an air of malevolent intent. Zemouregal tried once more to move. The attempt proved just as futile as the last, and he couldn't help but feel that he was going to lie there like a dead shark while something _really bad_ happened.

"Okay, well, this is fun," Enakhra said, "but I have other things to be doing."

Sliske smiled. "I'm sure we all do, so I suppose I'll get on with it."

"Get on with _what_?" Khazard asked. "What are you—"

Enakhra took that opportunity to aim a kick behind her, catching Khazard in the knee. He let out a yell of pain, and she pulled forward out of his grip. Zemouregal grinned.

Then Sliske repositioned himself slightly, and the grin slid off Zemouregal's face.

No.

The Staff's end was now barely a foot away from Enakhra's chest. Her eyes widened as forward momentum carried her across the very short distance.

No, no, _no_.

The Staff went straight through her.

Zemouregal shouted, not even sure if the noise contained any intelligible words.

Khazard stood dumbly, his expression a mask of shock.

Sliske disappeared with the Staff.

Enakhra dropped to the ground, and her life force flickered half-heartedly.

Then it went out.

* * *

**A/N: The first sentence of this chapter was not an intentional nod to my poor, wonderfully patient readers, but I realized after the fact that it kind of really worked.**

**I hereby belatedly dedicate that sentence to all of you lovely folks. :)**


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